^/- 


^ARKA,  THE  NIHILIST 


BY 
KATHLEEN  O'MEAEA 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER   &   BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN   SQUARE 

1887 


NARKA,  THE   NIHILIST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  was  All-souls  Eve.  The  winter  was  setting  in 
early,  and  threatened,  or  perhaps  we  should  say  prom- 
ised, to  be  a  severe  one ;  for  a  hard  winter  was  not  looked 
upon  as  a  misfortune  at  Yrakow,  the  ancestral  home  of 
Prince  Zorokoif .  Ice  and  snow  brought  too  many  plea- 
sures in  their  train  ever  to  be  unwelcome  there. 

A  group  consisting  of  young  Prince  Basil  Zorokoff, 
his  bi*other-in-law,  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  and  three  ladies 
were  assenabled  in  an  old-fashioned  tapestried  room  of 
the  castle.  The  two  men  wei'e  smoking  cigarettes,  and 
discussing  sport  between  long  drawn  puffs.  The  three 
ladies  were  sitting  round  the  samovar.  They  j)resented 
three  as  distinct  types  as  could  have  been  brought  to- 
gethe?'  with  a  view  to  the  setting  off  of  each  by  contrast. 

Sibyl,  Comtesse  de  Beaucrillon,  the  daughter  of  the 
house,  was  as  blond  as  a  Scandinavian,  with  light  blue 
eyes  and  fair  hair;  her  hands  were  so  small  as  to  be 
almost  out  of  proportion  with  her  figure,  which  was  tall 
and  full;  they  were  round  and  dimpled  like  a  baby's, 
with  the  delicate  nails  and  pink  finger-tips  that  one  sel- 
dom sees  in  perfection  except  in  babies.  Her  move- 
ments had  the  subtle  fascinating  grace  that  reminded 
you  of  a  kitten,  or  rather  of  a  young  cat,  for  there  was 
nothing  of  the  undiofnified  friskiuess  of  a  kitten  abou*^ 


2  Narha. 

Sibyl.  She  was  patrician  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 
Her  mauners  united  the  refined  elegance  of  a  French 
woman  with  the  soft  serpentine  grace  of  the  women  of 
the  north. 

Marguerite  de  Beaucrillon  was  just  below  the  middle 
height,  but  she  looked  tiny  beside  her  stately  sister-in- 
law.  She  had  no  pretensions  to  beauty,  yet  her  face 
was  pleasanter  to  look  at  than  many  a  beautiful  one; 
her  clear  olive  skin,  her  warm  color,  her  wistful  bright 
brown  eyes,  her  dimples,  and  her  glossy  hair  were  sug- 
gestive of  youth,  health,  and  happiness,  and  these  natural 
advantages  were  set  off  by  the  most  becoming  toilets; 
for  Marguerite  had  a  French  girl's  taste  and  principles 
about  dress,  and  considered  it  seriously  as  one  of  the 
daily  duties  of  life.  She  was  careful  and  very  success- 
ful in  her  combination  of  colors  and  effects.  Yet  you 
would  never  have  accused  her  of  coquetry  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense.  If  you  had  been  so  uncharitable,  one  glance 
into  her  face  would  have  converted  you.  Her  eyes  were 
as  free  from  consciousness  as  a  child's,  and  their  lan- 
guage was  as  transparent.  Sibyl  used  to  say  to  her,  "If 
you  don't  want  people  to  see  what  you  are  thinking  of, 
drop  your  lids,  for  those  eyes  of  yours  are  like  windows 
into  your  brain,  and  let  one  see  your  thoughts  coming 
and  going." 

Narka  Larik,  the  adopted  sister  of  Madame  de  Beau- 
crillon, was  the  tallest  of  the  three  women,  and  cast  in 
altogether  an  ampler  mould.  If  her  figure  had  been 
less  perfectly  proportioned,  it  might  have  seemed  too 
large ;  her  great  luminous  blue-black  eyes,  sometimes 
quite  blue,  sometimes  quite  black,  were  soft  as  velvet, 
but  under  the  softness  there  lurked  intimation  of  a  fiery 
vitality  ready  to  awake  and  emit  sparks  at  the  lightest 
touch;  her  mouth  was  jjerhaps  a  trillc  too  full  for  clas- 


Narka.  3 

sical  perfection,  but  its  curves  were  so  exquisite,  the  sen- 
sitive play  of  tlie  lips  so  lovely,  that  you  never  thought 
of  that;  the  clear  tint  of  her  complexion  was  like  the 
whiteness  of  some  white  flower;  her  hair,  of  that  warm 
red  gold  beloved  of  Titian,  was  knotted  in  thick  coils  at 
the  back  of  her  head,  and  fell  in  rippling  waves  over  her 
low  square  forehead.  There  was  something  wild  in  the 
character  of  Narka's  beauty,  in  the  lines  of  her  figure. 
She  stood  and  moved  with  the  strong,  elastic  ease  of  a 
panther,  or  of  some  other  grand,  free,  vmtamed  creature. 
Beautiful,  incompai-ably  more  beautiful  than  Sioyl, 
there  was  nevertheless  something  wanting  to  her  beauty 
which  that  of  Sibyl  possessed,  impalpable  but  distinct, 
something  which  marks  the  ditference  between  a  high- 
ly finished  work  of  art  and  a  spontaneous  growth  of  Na- 
ture in  her  happiest  and  most  generous  mood.  This 
difference  was  not  noticeable  except  when  the  patrician 
sister  was  brought  into  close  contact  with  the  plebeian, 
and  eveii  then  no  one  was  conscious  of  it,  perhaps,  but 
Narka  herself.  She  knew  that  she  was  beautiful,  and 
far  more  gifted  in  many  ways  than  Sibyl,  and  yet  she 
felt  as  much  her  inferior  as  the  lowly  born  maid  in 
mediaeval  times  may  have  felt  herself  below  the  noble 
demoiselle  in  whose  train  she  was  brought  up. 

The  three  friends  were  chatting  over  their  teacups, 
planning  costumes  for  a  fancy  ball  that  was  to  take 
place  at  the  castle  before  Christmas. 

"I  wish  I  could  hit  upon  something  that  would  com- 
bine everything,"  Marguerite  said,  putting  her  head  on 
one  side  with  a  pi-etty  bird-like  motion  very  character- 
istic of  her,  and  which  always  amused  Basil  Zorokoff. 

"Why  don't  you  consult  me,  cousin?"  he  said,  hold- 
ing out  his  cigarette  between  his  first  and  second  fingers 
and  gazing  steadily  at  Marguerite ;  but  the  twinkle  in 


4  NarJca. 

his  blue  eyes  belied  the  extreme  seriousness  of  his  hand- 
some face. 

"Well?"  said  Marguerite,  with  another  bewildering 
turn  of  her  head  from  left  to  right. 

"  Little  Red  Riding-hood  would  suit  you  to  perfection. 
The  color  would  be  becoming,  and  your  eyes  would 
shine  like  diamonds  under  the  scarlet  hood,  and  you 
would  look  like  a  Lilliputian  Venus  in  the  short  petti- 
coats." 

"And  you  would  play  the  wolf  and  howl  at  me  ?" 

"i^nd  crunch  you  up;  that  I  should  do  with  great 
satisfaction!" 

"How  many  wolves'  skins  would  it  take  to  make  a 
costume  for  you,  I  wonder  ?"  said  Marguerite,  measur- 
ing the  tall  young  fellow's  height  with  a  glance  of 
saucy  impertinence.  "A  pity  it  is  so  early  in  the 
winter,  or  you  might  go  and  shoot  half  a  dozen.  How 
exciting  it  must  be  to  hear  them  howling  in  the  forest ! 
They  never  come  till  Christmas,  do  they  ?" 

Basil  had  not  time  to  answer  when  a  distant  sound, 
penetrating  through  the  heavily  curtained  windows, 
made  them  all  start. 

"There  it  is  again !"  said  Narka. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Marguerite. 

"Listen  !"  Sibyl  held  up  her  jBnger,  and  the  gentle- 
men put  down  their  cigarettes. 

A  long  dismal  howl,  perceptibly  nearer  this  time,  was 
again  audible. 

"  Is  it  a  wolf  ?"  asked  Marguerite  under  her  breath. 

"At  this  time  of  the  year?"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon. 
"You  were  just  now  telling  me  that  they  never  came 
till  the  snow  was  deep  ?" 

"No  more  they  do,"  replied  Basil.  "I  never  before 
knew,  except  when  I  was  a  child — " 


NctrJca.  5 

"There  it  is  again!"  interrupted  Sibyl,  "and  this 
time  quite  close.     Let  us  go  up  to  the  gallery." 

"Oh,  how  dreadful!"  exclaimed  Marguerite,  who 
seemed  too  horrified  to  move.  "If  he  were  to  dash  at 
the  windows  and  break  in !" 

"He  cei'tainly  would  if  he  saw  you,  little  cousin," 
said  Basil;  "but  as  he  can't,  we  have  nothing  to  fear. 
Come  along  up  to  the  gallery,  and  see  what  a  live  wolf 
looks  like." 

He  drew  her  arm  through  his,  and  led  her  off,  excited 
and  only  half  reluctant.  The  others  had  all  fled  up 
before  them,  and  were  already  grouped  in  the  deep 
mullioned  window  at  the  further  end  of  the  gallery, 
the  only  one  that  was  in  shadow,  for  it  was  a  brilliant 
night,  and  the  full  moon,  riding  high  in  the  heavens, 
sent  as  her  largess  broad  bars  of  silver  light  through 
the  row  of  eight  windows  on  one  side  of  the  gallery. 
Basil,  still  holding  Marguerite's  arm  within  his,  joined 
the  others,  and  they  all  stood  watching. 

The  broad  gravel-drive  shone  like  granite  in  the  daz- 
zling whiteness  of  the  moonshine  ;  one  wing  of  the 
castle  was  in  black  shadow,  the  other  in  brilliant  light, 
every  arch  and  moulding  carved  in  ebony  and  silver. 

"Where  is  the  brute  sneaking?"  said  Basil. 

"  He  can't  be  far  off,"  said  Narka.  "  The  last  howl 
was  very  close." 

They  waited  with  bated  breath.  Nothing  stirred. 
The  park  was  so  silent  you  might  have  heard  the  stars 
twinkling. 

"Look!  there  he  is!"  exclaimed  Sibyl,  in  a  whisper, 
pointing  toward  the  clock  tower,  that  was  in  shadow. 

T\\Qj  pressed  closer,  and  strained  their  eyes. 

"I  see  him!"  Marguerite  ci-ied,  and,  shuddering,  she 
clutched  Basil's  arm,  as  if  safety  lay  in  his  coat  sleeve. 


6  JSfarJca. 

Basil  bore  it  manfully.  "Never  fear,  little  cousin. 
See,  he  is  coming  on!" 

Tlie  beast  advanced  a  few  steps  and  paused,  one  half 
of  his  lank  gray  body  in  shadow,  the  other  in  sheen. 
Suddenly  he  pricked  his  ears,  held  one  forefoot  suspend- 
ed, and  tui'ned  his  head  toward  the  park  in  an  attitude 
of  intense  listening. 

"Does  he  hear  something?"'  asked  M.  de  Beaucrillon. 

"It  looks  like  it,"  Basil  replied,  uneasily.  "I  will 
get  my  gun." 

"So  will  I,"  said  his  brother-in-law.  And  they  hur- 
ried away  together. 

Presently  the  wolf  turned  his  head  toward  the  house, 
moved  forward  a  few  steps,  and  glared  up  with  his  red 
eyeballs. 

To  Marguerite  there  was  something  delicious  in  the 
combination  of  horror  and  a  sense  of  comfortable  safety 
that  she  experienced  in  looking  down  at  the  ferocious 
animal  from  behind  thick  stone  walls. 

"Do  you  think  he  heard  us  speaking?"  she  asked, 
almost  under  her  breath. 

Narka's  fear  and  Sibyl's  was  that  he  had  heard  some- 
thing else.  What  an  age  the  gentlemen  were  in  bring- 
ing their  fire-arms  !  They  had  in  reality  been  away 
about  two  minutes. 

"  Oh,  here  they  come !"  said  Sibyl. 

"Open  the  window  as  quickly  and  quietly  as  you 
can,"  said  Basil.  But  before  there  was  time  to  obey, 
the  wolf  turned  his  head,  and  uttering  a  long  howl, 
bounded  off,  and  disappeared  round  the  cloclc  tower. 

"Confound  tlie  brute!"  muttered  Basil. 

"I  wonder  why  he  darted  away  so  suddenly?"  said 
Narka. 

"Probably  it  was  some  noise  in  the  thicket,  some 


NarJca.  *j 

animal  prowling  abovxt,"  said  Basil ;  but  lie  did  not  seem 
convinced. 

"Suppose  it  were  some  one  coming  through  the 
park  ?"  suggested  Marguerite.      "  How  awful  if  it  were !" 

"Nobody  is  likely  to  be  out  this  time  of  night,"  re- 
plied her  cousin. 

"Hush!  listen!"  cried  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  laying  his 
hand  on  Basil's  shoulder. 

Every  ear  was  strained.  Yes,  there  was  a  sound  of 
galloping  hoofs  in  the  distance. 

"Ought  we  to  send  out  men  with  fire-arms?"  asked 
Sibyl. 

"Where  to?"  said  Basil.  "That  sound  comes  from 
the  left,  and  the  brute  made  for  the  forest.  Besides,  no 
one  would  be  abroad  at  this  hour  without  fire-arms. 
I  dare  say  it  is  Larclioff .  I  met  him  riding  in  to  X.  this 
afternoon.  He  often  rides  back  late.  He  is  sure  to  be 
armed.  It  would  be  a  good  joke  if  the  wolf  pulled  him 
down  and  made  a  meal  of  him." 

"No  such  luck," cried  Narka;  "beasts  of  a  species  do 
not  prey  on  each  other." 

This  speech  sounded  unnaturally  cynical  on  the  lips 
of  a  young  girl.  Marguerite  shrank  imperceptibly  away 
from  her,  and  moved  closer  to  Basil.  M.  de  Beaucrillon 
felt  the  same  repulsion  so  strongly  that,  under  pretence 
of  putting  aside  his  gun,  he  went  out  of  the  room.  Pre- 
sently Basil  carried  his  to  a  safe  corner,  and  then,  step- 
ping into  the  deep  embrasure  of  one  of  the  windows 
flooded  with  light,  called  to  Marguerite  to  join  him. 
She  went  tripping  lightly  aci'oss  the  polished  floor,  and 
they  stood  together  looking  out  at  the  moonlit  land- 
scape. 

Sibyl  and  Narka  remained  alone.  They  were  both 
more  disturbed  than  they  wished  to  appear.     Supersti- 


8  NarJca. 

tious  as  genuine  Muscovites,  the  coming  of  the  wolf  he- 
fore  the  seasonable  time  was  to  them  an  ill  omen,  all 
the  more  alarming  from  its  vagueness.  "The  wolf 
waits  for  the  white  carpet,"  was  a  saying  of  the  pea- 
sants; and  when  he  appeared  before  the  carpet  was 
spread,  some  calamity  was  certain  to  follow. 

"Well,  cousin,  you  have  had  a  glimpse  of  one  of  our 
winter  amusements.     How  do  you  like  it  ?"  asked  Basil. 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  replied  Marguerite. 

"You  were  saying,  only  a  little  while  ago,  that  it 
must  be  so  exciting,  and  wanting  me  to  turn  wolf  and 
howl  at  you." 

"Do  you  think  the  wolf  overheard  me  ?" 

"I  will  tell  you  a  secret,"  said  Basil.  "I  asked  the 
brute  to  come  and  howl  for  you  to-night.  At  first  he 
flatly  refused,  like  the  brute  that  he  is;  then  I  bribed 
him." 

"  What  bribe  did  you  offer  him  ?" 

"You  won't  tell?"  He  bent  his  tall  figure  down 
until  his  mustache  almost  touched  her  ear.  "  I  told  him 
that  Larchoff  was  coming  this  way,  and  that  he  could 
sup  off  him." 

"Oil!"  said  Marguerite,  drawing  away  with  a  little 
shudder.  "Why  do  you  want  that  poor  man  to  be 
devoured  by  a  wild  beast?" 

"Because  that  poor  man  is  more  destructive  than 
any  wild  beast  alive:  he  is  the  devil." 

"Is  he  so  wicked  ?     Who  is  he  ?" 

"Who  is  Larchoff?  He  is  our  neighbor,  and  dates 
his  descent  from  Peter  the  Great,  who  gave  the  family  a 
title.  He  is  a  liar  and  a  hypocrite,  as  cruel  as  a  tiger 
and  as  greedy  as  a  wolf,  cowardly  as  a  rat  and  dishon- 
est as  a  Jew;  he  has  all  the  bad  instincts  of  man  and 
beast  combined;  he  is  only  fit  company  for  the  devil, 


JVarka.  9 

and  that  is  where  the  curses  of  good  men  are  speeding 
him  night  and  day." 

'  'Ah !  but  that  is  wicked !"  said  Mai'guerite,  with  a  shud- 
der.   "They  ought  to  pray  for  liim  tliat  lie  might  repent." 

"Pray  for  Larchoff !"  Basil  threw  back  his  head  with 
a  low  laugh;  the  notion  of  anybody  praying  for  Lar- 
choff was  immensely  funny  to  him.  "If  the  pi'ayers 
wei-e  heard,  and  that  fiend  were  to  repent  and  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  I  hope  I  may  go  somewhere  else! 
He  has  done  more  evil  and  made  more  men  and  women 
miserable  than  any  man  of  his  generation,  unless,  pei'- 
haps,  his  master  the  Czar.  You  know  about  old  Lar- 
choff, this  fellow's  father  ?  No  ?  Sibyl  never  told  you  ? 
Well,  listen.  Jacob  Larik,  Narka's  father,  was  a  Jew; 
they  are  a  vile  race,  but  Jacob  was  an  exception;  he 
was  honest,  and  very  rich.  He  traded  in  fui'S,  and  he 
was  clever  and  industrious,  as  the  Jews  mostly  are. 
He  lived  in  one  of  Larchoff 's  villages,  unluckily.  One 
day  Larchoff,  who,  like  his  son,  was  always  in  want  of 
money,  went  to  Jacob,  and  said  he  must  pay  down  fifty 
thousand  rubles  or  pack  up.  Of  course  Jacob  paid 
them.  At  the  end  of  six  months  Larchoff  came  down 
on  him  for  another  fifty  thousand.  Jacob  paid  again ; 
and  so  it  went  on  until  there  was  no  more  blood  in  the 
stone.  Then  Jacob  fell  on  his  knees  and  besought  Lar- 
choff, for  the  sake  of  the  God  of  Abraham,  to  spare  him 
and  give  him  time  to  gain  the  money,  and  he  would  go 
on  working  and  paying  while  he  could;  but  Larchoff 
spat  on  him  and  mocked  him,  and  then  went  off  and 
denounced  him  as  deep  in  a  plot  against  the  life  of  the 
Emperor.  The  poor  wretch  was  seized  and  flogged  and 
tortured  to  make  him  confess ;  and  as  he  could  not  con- 
fess, he  was  sent  to  Siberia.  Fortunately  he  died  on 
the  road." 


10  Narha. 

"  Oh  my  God !     And  Narka  ?" 

' '  Narka  was  a  small  toddler  at  the  time.  She  and  her 
brother  Sergius  and  Madame  Larik  came  to  live  with  us. 
Nai'ka  was  educated  with  Sibyl,  Sergius  with  me ;  he  was 
such  a  dear  good  fellow,  and  so  clever!  He  wanted  to 
be  a  physician,  and  just  after  old  LarchoflF  died  he  passed 
his  examinations  brilliantly.  We  were  all  proud  of 
him,  and  everybody  made  much  of  him;  all  the  people 
in  the  district  invited  him  and  made  a  fuss  over  him. 
It  was  very  foolish,  for  it  enraged  Larchoff  jils;  he 
knew  that  his  father  had  been  hated  for  the  murder,  as 
it  was  called,  of  old  Jacob,  and  that  he  himself  was  hated 
as  much  as  his  father.  He  resolved  to  be  revenged  on 
us  all  by  ruining  Sergius.  He  went  and  denounced  the 
poor  fellow.  Oh,  it  was  a  damnable  piece  of  work!" 
said  Basil,  with  suppressed  passion. 

"  What  happened  him  ?" 

"  Sergius  ?     He  was  sent  to  Siberia." 

"And  is  he  there  still  ?" 

"Yes — his  bones  are  there.  He  lived  three  years  at 
the  gold  diggings,  and  then  luckily  he  died.  Poor 
Sergius!" 

"And  his  mother,  and  Narka  ?" 

"  They  lived  through  it,  as  people  do.  It  broke  their 
hearts;  but  people  live  with  broken  hearts,  as  they  do 
with  broken  legs.  We  were  all  very  fond  of  them — 
Sibyl  and  Narka  are  like  sisters.  My  mother  always 
spoke  of  Narka  as  her  adopted  child,  and  after  her  death 
the  two  were  inseparable." 

"And  that  cruel,  horrid  man  stays  on  here?  Does 
anybody  speak  to  him  ?" 

"Speak  to  him  I  They  cringe  to  him,  they  lick  his 
feet." 

"  You  never  speak  to  him  ?" 


Ncirka.  11 

"I  spoke  to  him  no  later  than  this  afternoon." 

"Oh  !"  in  a  tone  of  shocked  astonishment. 

"My  cliild,  if  I  offended  Larchoff,  in  spite  of  my 
father's  present  influence  at  court,  he  would  never  rest 
till  he  had  sent  me  and  all  belonging  to  me  after  the 
Lariks." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     Why,  he  must  be  the  devil." 

"  My  sweet  cousin,  I  began  by  telling  you  he  was." 

"And  is  there  nothing  to  protect  people  against  him  ? 
Is  there  no  law  in  Russia?" 

"Yes;  there  is  the  law  of  might  and  cunning." 

After  a  moment's  silence  Mai'guerite  said,  in  a  confi- 
dential sotto  voce,  looking  up  at  Basil:  "I  wonder  why 
you  don't  make  a  revolution.  If  I  were  a  Russian  I 
should  be  a  Nihilist— is  not  that  what  j'ou  call  them  ?" 

Basil's  eye  flashed,  and  he  made  a  sudden  movement 
as  if  he  would  have  caught  her  in  his  arms;  but  he 
checked  himself,  and  said,  with  a  laugh,  "If  you  preach 
treason  of  that  sort,  petite  Frangaise,  I  will  tell  Lar- 
choff, and  you  will  be  escoi'ted  to  the  frontier  imme^ 
diately,  and  perhaps  get  a  whipping  first." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  in  the  deep 
recess  of  one  window,  Sibyl  and  Narka  were  talking 
confidentially  in  another. 

"I  wonder  whether  Basil  thinks  at  all  seriously  of 
Sophie?"  Sibyl  remarked.  "I  do  long  to  see  him  mar- 
ried and  out  of  harm's  way !" 

"  Are  you  sure  that  to  marry  him  to  the  sister  of  Ivan 
Got-ff  would  be  taking  him  out  of  harm's  way  ?" 

Sibyl  did  not  answer. 

"Supposing  it  were,"  resumed  Narka,  "I  could  un- 
derstand your  overlooking  a  good  deal  to  make  him 
settle  down,  as  you  say ;  but  I  can't  see  how  the  Prince 
should  be  anxious  for  such  a  marriage  for  his  son.     Paul 


12  Karka. 

Gorif  was  a  trader,  and  Ivan  carries  on  his  father's  busi- 
ness— on  a  grand  scale,  it  is  true;  still,  he  is  in  trade; 
and  the  daughter  and  sister  of  a  trader  is  not  the  wife 
one  would  expect  Prince  ZorokoflF  to  select  for  his  son." 

"  It  is  hardly  a  selection.  Who  else  is  there  to  prefer 
to  Sophie?  She  is  the  only  gii'l  in  the  district.  Basil 
never  goes  to  St.  Petersburg  except  to  pay  his  court  to 
the  Emperor  and  rush  back.  You  know  how  he  used 
to  entertain  us  caricaturing  all  the  gii-ls  he  sees  there. 
Then  Sophie's  mother  was  noble;  it  was  considered  a 
dreadful  disgrace  her  making  that  mesalliance  with 
Paul  Gorff.  Besides,  she  is  sole  heiress  to  her  uncle's 
enormous  fortune,  and  Basil,  with  all  his  indifference  to 
money,  knows  very  well  that  it  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
despised;  for  I  suspect  my  father  is  melting  down  his 
fortune  as  fast  as  he  can  at  St.  Petersburg." 

Narka  did  not  reply.  She  knew  well  enough  that  the 
Gorff  money-bags  were  the  bait  that  w^as  making  Prince 
Zorokoff  swallow  his  pride  and  court  the  trader's  pretty 
daughter  for  his  son.  But  would  Basil  pi'ove  an  accom- 
plice in  the  transaction  ? 

"Basil  is  far  too  proud  to  make  a  mesalliance  for 
money,"  continued  Sibyl,  contradicting  her  last  words, 
for  she  felt  instinctively  what  was  in  Narka's  mind, 
"But  he  does  admire  Sophie.  Besides,  he  is  so  chival- 
rous I  believe  he  would  make  any  sacrifice  to  deliver 
her  from  that  brute  Larchoff.  Ivan  says  that  Larchoff 
is  trying  hard  to  ingratiate  himself,  and  Sophie  naturally 
loathes  the  sight  of  him  ;  but  if  she  were  to  let  Larclfoff 
see  this,  the  consequences  might  be  awful  to  herself  and 
Ivan.     We  know  of  what  Larchoff"  is  capable." 

"Yes,"  replied  Narka,  in  a  level  undertone;  "but  it 
would  not  be  pleasant  to  have  his  vengeance  turned 
upon  Basil  as  a  successful  rival." 


NarJca.  13 

Before  Sibyl  could  answer,  M.  de  Beaucrillon  inter- 
rupted them. 

"  It  appears  the  whole  house  is  in  a  commotion  about 
the  wolf,"  he  said.  "My  man  tells  me  they  are  proph- 
esying the  most  appalling  events — fires,  earthquakes, 
murders,  and  I  know  not  what — on  the  strength  of  it." 

"  They  are  a  pack  of  fools!"  Basil  called  out,  walking 
up  with  Mai'guerite  through  the  checkered  light.  ' '  Tliat 
wolf  came  with  the  best  intentions,  solely  to  amuse  Mar- 
guerite. To-morrow  he  will  provide  entertainment  for 
you  by  giving  us  an  opportunity  to  hunt  him." 

"Your  Russian  hospitality  is  sublime,  tnon  cher,''''  re- 
plied M.  de  Beaucrillon.  "The  very  wild  beasts  are 
summoned  to  contribute  to  the  enjoyment  of  your 
guests." 

And  so,  laughing,  they  went  out  of  the  gallery  to- 
gether, and  separated  for  the  night. 


14  JSfarka. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  excitement  caused  by  the  appearance  of  the  wolf 
was  increased  rather  than  lessened  next  morning  by  the 
prospect  of  a  hunt,  which  diverted  the  superstitious  ter- 
rors of  the  household  into  more  healthy  sensations.  It 
was  a  splendid  day ;  the  sky  was  clear  as  sapphire,  and 
the  frosty  landscape  glittered  in  the  morning  light.  The 
news  had  been  taken  down  to  the  village  at  daybreak, 
and  when  the  ladies  came  down-sta,irs  the  hunt  was  as- 
sembled on  the  lawn,  every  available  man  in  the  house- 
hold being  present  with  his  gun ;  the  villagers  and  mou- 
jiks  in  their  costumes  and  slieep-skins,  the  dogs  in  force, 
and  all  in  high  good-humor. 

Narka  and  Sibyl  entered  into  the  prospect  of  the  sport 
with  keen  gusto ;  but  though  Marguerite  was  alive  to  the 
picturesque  side  of  the  adventure,  the  idea  of  a  close  en- 
counter with  such  ferocious  game  was  too  terrifying  to 
admit  of  her  entering  into  it  with  any  sympathy. 

"Why  not  set  traps  for  the  wolf,  instead  of  exposing 
men's  lives  in  going  to  hunt  him  ?"  she  asked,  as  they 
watched  the  scene  on  the  lawn. 

"But  then  where  would  be  the  sport  ?''  cried  Narka. 

"Yes;  that  is  what  the  men  delight  in,"  said  Sibyl; 
"and  that  is  what  wolves  are  for — to  make  sport  for 
them." 

"It  is  the  nature  of  men,  I  suppose,  to  like  such 
sport,"  said  Marguerite;  "but  I  can't  understand  your 
liking  it  for  them.  Just  think  if  the  wolf  were  to  turn 
on  Gaston  or  Basil  and  kill  either  of  them !" 


Ncirka.  15 

"  Cherie,  I'm  not  going  to  think  anytliiug  so  unplea- 
sant," cried  Sibyl.  "You  are  a  little  coward,  you 
French  girl." 

'"Yes,  I  am;  but  at  any  rate  I  have  the  courage  of 
my  cowardice;  I'm  not  ashamed  to  own  it." 

"There  is  no  shame  in  being  a  coward  for  those  we 
love,"  said  Sibyl,  caressingly. 

Marguerite  blushed  up  scarlet.  ' '  No ;  I  dare  say  even 
Gaston  would  be  frightened  if  he  saw  me  going  out  to 
fight  a  wolf."  She  gave  a  little  sudden  turn  of  her  head 
and  looked  away. 

Narka  saw  the  blush,  and  saw  the  movement  to  hide 
it.  Did  "those  they  love"  include  for  Marguerite  some- 
body besides  Gaston  ?  Girls  don't  blush  violently  at 
being  suspected  of  cowardice  on  their  brothers'  behalf. 

"Here  comes  Ivan  Gorff,"  said  Sibyl,  as  there  emerged 
from  round  the  clock  tower  a  broad-shouldered,  loosely 
jointed,  bushy-headed  young  man. 

Basil  broke  from  a  distant  group  to  go  and  greet  him. 
As  the  two  men  walked  up  the  broad  gravel-path  they 
presented  a  striking  contrast.  Basil  was  the  type  of  the 
polished,  highly  civilized  Russian  seigneur,  very  tall, 
with  clear  complexion,  blue  eyes,  abundant  fair  hair, 
and  golden  mustache;  his  countenance  was  frank  and 
full  of  intelligence,  with  a  singular  mobility  of  expres- 
sion. 

Ivan  Gorff  was  by  no  means  vulgar  or  ill-looking,  but 
his  large  head  and  massive  shoulders,  his  loosely  built 
frame  and  his  heavy,  shuffling  gait,  showed  to  increased 
disadvantage  beside  the  finely  proportioned  figure  and 
noble  bearing  of  the  young  Prince. 

Ivan  paid  his  respects  to  the  three  ladies,  raising  their 
hands  to  his  lips  after  the  chivalrous  fashion  of  his 
countrymen,  but  he  performed  the  ceremony  with  a 


16  Narka. 

brusquerie  which  was  the  result  not  so  much  of  shy- 
ness as  of  an  awkwardness  that  seems  to  be  inseparable 
from  a  badly  built  human  frame. 

"What  does  the  village  say,  Ivan  Gorff?"  inquired 
Sibyl. 

"It  says  that  a  pack  of  wolves,  variously  estimated 
from  five  to  five-and-twenty,  came  down  and  kept  up  a 
howling  round  the  castle  from  midnight  till  dawn,"  re- 
plied Ivan. 

"That  is  how  history  gets  written,"  observed  M.  de 
Beaucrillon. 

"What  do  they  say  brought  the  wolf  down  ?"  inquired 
Sibyl. 

"They  say  he  came  for  no  good;  they  are  terrified 
out  of  their  wits." 

"  They  are  a  pack  of  idiots,"  said  Basil.  "  I  suspect 
some  rogue  has  been  trapping  cubs  in  the  forest,  and 
the  mother  came  down  to  look  for  them.  The  howl 
sounded  uncommonly  like  the  call  of  the  she-wolf." 

"That  was  the  first  thing  that  occurred  to  me,"  said 
Ivan;  "but  they  all  swore  they  knew  nothing  about 
cubs  being  trapped." 

"They  were  sure  to  swear  that  anyhow,"  laughed 
Basil. 

"By-the-way,"  said  Ivan,  "the  wolf  was  near  trap- 
ping a  cub  of  the  devil's  last  night.  Larchotf  came  up 
with  him  on  the  road,  and  if  he  had  not  put  a  bullet 
through  the  brute  in  time,  and  sent  him  yelling  away 
on  tliree  h^gs,  he  was  a  dead  man." 

"  Whoin  did  he  tell  tbat  stunning  lie  to?"  asked  Basil. 

' '  Father  Christopher.  He  met  Larchoff  this  morning 
on  his  way  to  see  some  sick  woman  in  the  wood." 

"I  wish  Father  Christopher  did  not  meet  him  so 
often,"  said  Basil.      "  He  may  brave  the  fellow  once  too 


Narha.  1 7 

often,  and  my  father  may  not  be  able  to  pull  him  out  of 
his  fangs." 

' '  Father  Christopher  never  thinks  of  that, "  said  Nai-ka ; 
"he  only  thinks  of  sparing  the  peasants,  of  putting  him- 
self between  them  and  LarchoflF's  cruelty.  If  it  were 
not  for  Father  Christopher,  LarchofF  would  be  flaying 
them  alive,  and  flogging  them  of  a  morning  to  get  an 
appetite  for  his  breakfast. " 

"Oh!"     Marguerite  gave  a  little  scream. 

' '  She  is  only  joking,  cousin,"  said  Basil.  ' '  You  should 
not  say  those  things  before  her,"  he  added,  angrily,  to 
Narka. 

"No ;  it  is  bad  for  her  French  nerves," observed  M.  de 
Beaucrillon.  He  said  it  seriously,  almost  solemnly,  but 
Sibyl  suspected  he  was  mocking. 

"The  father  is  imprudent,"  she  remarked.  "It 
would  be  much  better  for  everybody  concerned  if  he 
tried  to  conciliate  Larchoff." 

"Yes,"  said  Ivan;  "if  he  would  just  my-lord-Count 
him  and  flatter  him  a  bit,  it  would  serve  the  peasants 
better." 

"The  father  is  too  honest  to  flatter  anybody,"  said 
Narka,  "much  less  such  a  vile  thing  as  Larchott'." 

"Pshaw!"  said  Ivan — "the  notion  of  wasting  fine 
sentiment  on  a  wolf !  One  talks  to  a  fool  according  to 
his  folly,  and  one  ti*eats  a  savage  as  a  savage.  The 
father  will  find  out  his  mistake  too  late  if  he  doesn't 
change  his  tactics  toward  Larchoff.  Paul  the  cobbler 
heai'd  high  words  between  them  on  the  road  this  morn- 
ing; he  did  not  catch  what  the  quarrel  was  about,  but 
Larchoff  shouted,  'If  you  don't  keep  your  tongue  wai*m, 
you  had  better  pack  up.'  'I  am  always  packed  up,' 
said  the  father ;  '  I  am  ready  to  start  every  day,  and  I 

would  rather  take  the  road  to  Siberia  this  minute  than 
2 


18  Narka. 

abet  your  villany  by  holding  my  tongue.'  Paul  saw 
them  from  behind  the  wall,  and  he  says  Larchoff  looked 
like  a  mad  bull  and  the  father  like  an  angry  lion,  his 
head  thrown  back  and  his  white  hair  fluttering." 

' '  I  wish  the  father  would  try  and  keep  out  of  his  way," 
said  Sibyl. 

"Yes,  but  there  is  no  keeping  out  of  the  devil's  way," 
said  Basil.  ' '  He  is  always  about,  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour." 

A  horn  sounded  from  the  lawn. 

"Come !  let  us  be  on  the  march,"  said  Basil. 

The  three  gentlemen  went  out,  and  presently  the  hunt 
moved  on. 

The  ladies  watched  it  out  of  sight,  but  when  Sibyl 
turned  from  the  window  she  missed  Marguerite. 

"She  has  gone  to  pray  that  they  may  not  be  devoured 
by  the  wolf,"  said  Narka,  in  answer  to  her  exclamation 
of  surprise. 

"Does  she  care  so  very  much,  do  you  think — I  mean 
for  Basil  ?" 

"She  cares  enough,  I  dare  say,  to  say  a  prayer  for 
him  in  an  emergency." 

Sibyl  sat  down  to  lj»er  tapestry.  Narka  stood  looking 
out  at  the  window. 

"  What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  Basil  were  to  fall  in 
love  with  Marguerite!"  said  Sibyl,  with  a  sigh  as  soft 
and  long-drawn  as  the  silk  she  was  pulling  through  her 
needle. 

Narka  gave  a  curious  smile.  "You  were  sighing 
last  night  that  he  might  fall  in  love  with  Sophie." 

"I  would  sigh  for  a  month  if  it  would  help  him  to 
fall  in  love  with  Marguerite.  Sophie  has  some  essen- 
tials that  would  suit,  but  Marguerite  has  everything. 
And  she  is  so  gentle  1" 


Narka.  19 

"Are  5^011  sure  such  a  gentle  wife  is  what  Basil 
wants  ?" 

"He  admires  gentleness  in  a  woman  immensely. 
Most  men  do." 

"  It  does  not  follow  that  it  would  suit  him  hest.  Basil 
wants  a  wife  that  he  could  lean  upon — a  woman  who 
would  guide  him.  Sophie  has  plenty  of  chax'acter,  and 
a  very  strong  will;  she  turns  her  brother  round  her 
finger," 

"  I  should  not  like  Basil  to  be  turned  round  his  wife's 
finger.  But  you  are  mistaken  in  fancying  that  Mar- 
guerite lacks  character:  she  has  plenty  of  character, 
only  it  is  kept  down  by  her  French  training.  Wait  till 
she  is  married,  and  then  you  will  see  how  she  will  de- 
velop.    French  girls  are  all  like  that." 

"Would  she  many  a  schismatic?" 

"Ah,  that  is  the  one  obstacle.  But  if  Basil  tried,  I 
am  certain  he  might  overcome  it.  If  he  would  only 
make  Marguerite  fall  in  love  with  him !" 

Something  magnetic  made  Sibyl  turn  and  look  at 
Narka.  "Why  do  you  smile  like  that?"  she  said. 
"  Don't  you  think  a  girl  might  love  Basil  ?" 

"You  and  I  have  managed  to  love  him." 

"How  silly  you  are  sometimes,  with  all  your  clever- 
ness, Narka!  I  mean  a  girl  who  is  nothing  to  him. 
If  I  were  a  girl — not  his  sister — I  should  easily  fall  in 
love  with  him.  Don't  you  think  you  would  ? — if  he 
tried  to  make  you  ?" 

"Perhaps.  The  Princess  used  to  say  that  a  woman 
never  could  tell  whether  a  man  could  make  her  love  him 
or  not  until  he  tried.     I  dare  say  she  was  right." 

Sibyl  raised  one  hand,  and  let  it  drop  lightly  on  the 
canvas  with  a  gesture  of  utter  amazement. 

"To  think  that  you  of  all  women  should  not  believe 


20  Narha. 

Basil  capable  of  winning  any  girl  he  set  his  heart  on !" 
she  exclaimed — "Basil,  who  has  everything  that  can 
make  a  man  charming !" 

"Charm  is  very  much  a  matter  of  individual  taste 
and  sympathy,"  said  Narka,  and  she  lapsed  into  silence. 
Presently  she  turned  fi-om  the  window,  and  went  to  the 
piano,  and  sat  down,  running  her  fingers  over  the  keys 
in  an  impromptu  prelude  which  she  accompanied  at  first 
in  a  low,  almost  inarticulate  murmur;  but  by  degi-ees 
the  tones  rose,  and  the  rich  voice  gave  forth  its  power, 
uttering  in  music  the  passionate  thought  that  seemed  so 
often  folded  in  Narka's  silence,  and  never  expressed  itself 
freely  but  in  song.  Her  voice  was  one  of  those  rai'e  and 
rich  instruments  that  combine  every  quality ;  it  had  the 
warm,  mellow  tones  of  a  contralto,  and  the  range  of  a 
soprano,  the  high  notes  ringing  out  with  bell-like  clear- 
ness, the  lower  soft  as  oil  poured  out:  it  was  a  voice 
that  would  have  made  a  fortune  on  tlie  stage,  so  pow- 
erful it  was,  so  brilliant,  and  at  the  same  time  of  such 
melting  sweetness.  Narka  never  looked  so  beautiful 
as  when  she  was  singing,  and  she  would  go  on  warbling 
and  trilling  for  hours,  never  tired,  like  a  bird  whose 
natural  speech  was  song. 


Narka,  21 


CHAPTER  HI. 

The  wolf  hunt  proved  a  failure.  The  sportsmen  came 
home  without  having  seen  or  scented  the  game  of  which 
they  had  gone  in  search.  It  had  been  discovered,  how- 
ever, that  a  peasant  in  one  of  Larchoff's  villages  had 
trapped  a  cub  two  days  before,  and  carried  it  off  to  his 
father  in  the  village  beyond  Yrakow.  This  discovery 
was  a  great  relief  to  the  population,  and  calmed  their 
terrors  by  giving  a  natural  explanation  of  the  prema- 
ture appeai'ance  of  the  unwelcome  visitor.  It  was  evi- 
dently the  mother  that  had  come  down  to  look  for  her 
stolen  cub. 

"All  the  same,"  Narka  remarked,  "I  wish  the  week 
were  past,  and  that  we  were  safe  over  the  adventure." 

"You  don't  sei'iously  believe  that  it  forebodes  evil, 
mademoiselle  ?"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  looking  at  her 
with  amused  incredulity. 

"I  seriously  believe  in  precedent  and  tradition,"  re- 
plied Narka,  "  It  is  a  thing  unprecedented  for  the  wolf 
to  come  down  before  the  snow  without  some  calamity 
suddenly  following.  In  the  Prince's  childliood  a  wolf 
was  seen  in  the  village  one  night  in  October,  and  the 
next  day  a  fire  broke  out,  and  two-thirds  of  the  houses 
were  burnt  down." 

"That  is  conclusive  evidence,  certainly;  the  wolf 
was  evidently  an  incendiary,"  observed  M.  de  Beaucril- 
lon, gravely. 

"  It  is  very  well  for  you  to  laugh,  Gaston, "  said  Sibj^l ; 
"  but  you  have  your  superstitions  in  Burgundy  too,  and 


22  Narha. 

a  score  of  precedents  that  everybody  at  Beaucrillon  be- 
lieves in.     I  wish  we  were  safe  out  of  the  week." 

"A  week  is  the  limit  of  the  danger?"  said  Gaston, 
with  provoking-  coolness.  "If  it  is  not  fulfilled  within 
that  time,  the  wolf  is  voted  a  false  prophet  ?" 

"It  so  happens  that  hitherto  it  always  has  been  ful- 
filled within  the  week,"  replied  Sibyl. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  in  his  secret  soul  hoped  that  it 
would  be  fulfilled  this  week.  He  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  place  so  deadly  dull  that  it  would  have  been  a  mercy 
if  the  wolf  bi'ought  any  change  to  enliven  things.  Even 
a  fire  in  the  village  would  be  better  than  nothing.  Gas- 
ton had  only  been  three  weeks  at  Yrakow,  and  it  was 
palling  on  him  horribly.  The  magnificent  vastness  of 
the  castle,  the  barbaric  splendor  of  the  interior,  the  im- 
mensity of  the  grounds,  the  immensity  of  the  forest,  the 
scale  of  immensity  on  which  everything  within  and 
without  was  constructed,  made  the  sense  of  desolateness 
produced  by  the  smallness  of  the  social  element  propor- 
tionately immense.  The  immobility  of  life  in  this  en- 
ormous palace,  with  its  galleries  as  long  as  streets,  and 
its  rooms  as  big  as  courts,  and  its  halls  as  vast  as  ordi- 
nary squares,  was  overpowering.  There  were  seventy 
servants  in  the  household,  but  they  made  no  more  life  in 
the  place  than  the  flies  on  the  pane.  M.  de  Beaucrillon 
sauntered  through  the  vast  apartments,  and  smoked 
countless  cigars,  and  felt  as  if  he  were  walking  in  an 
enchanted  castle  where  everybody  was  under  a  spell  of 
somnolence.  Basil  was  an  excellent  host,  and  did  all 
he  could  to  wake  up  the  sleeping  inhabitants,  but  Basil 
himself  was  under  the  spell.  He  did  not  understand 
the  need  for  being  always  awake;  he  went  spasmodic- 
ally from  mercurial  activity  to  absolute  idleness,  from 
hunting   a   wolf,  and  similar   out -door   exercises,  to 


JVarka.  23 

lounging  by  the  Lour  ou  the  flat  of  his  back  with  a 
cigar  in  his  mouth  ;  lie  spent  liours  dreaming  and 
writing  in  his  private  study,  emerging  thence  in  alter- 
nate moods  of  high  excitement  and  profound  melan- 
choly. M.  de  Beaucrillon  was  very  fond  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  but  he  did  not  understand  him;  Basil,  for  all  his 
physical  strength  and  reckless  courage,  seemed  to  him 
more  a  woman  than  a  man,  a  creature  made  of  contra- 
dictions, of  impulses,  of  passionate  emotions  and  ex- 
aggerations. 

The  day  after  the  hunt,  Marguerite  and  Narka  went 
out  for  a  ride.  As  they  passed  through  the  village, 
Narka  pointed  out  the  cottage  where  she  and  her  mo- 
ther resided  since  Sibyl's  marriage. 

"You  must  take  me  to  pay  a  visit  to  Madame  Larik 
as  soon  as  she's  well  enough, "  said  Marguerite.  ' '  When 
will  that  be  ?" 

"In  a  few  days,  I  hope,"  Narka  replied,  looking 
pleased  and  grateful.  "She  has  been  much  better  this 
last  week,  and  has  had  good  nights:  that  is  why  I  have 
been  able  to  stay  at  the  castle.  It  is  seldom  that  her 
rheumatism  is  so  bad  at  this  season,  poor  dear  mother!" 

"Ought  she  not  go  to  some  German  baths  for  it?" 
said  Marguerite. 

"  Yes,  she  ought;  and  I  hope  some  day  to  be  able  to 
take  her  to  Aix-la-Chapelle.  Some  day  sounds  vague," 
Narka  added,  in  answer  to  a  look  in  Marguerite's  face ; 
"but  we  are  waiting  on  a  legacy  that  is  to  come  to  us 
from  an  old  I'elative  of  mother's.  I  have  never  seen 
him,  so  it  is  not  very  cynical  of  me  to  look  forward  to 
enjoy  his  money — is  it  ?  And  the  doctor  assures  me  Aix 
would  do  wonders  for  my  mother." 

"And  then  joii  will  come  on  and  spend  the  autumn 
at  Beaucrillon  and  the  winter  in  Paris." 


24  Narha. 

"That  would  be  a  charming  programme,  "said  Narka, 
smiling",  ' '  but  mother  has  a  great  desire  to  spend  a  month 
in  Munich,  her  native  place,  and  then  to  make  a  little 
tour  in  Germany ;  and  I  don't  know  whether  the  legacy 
would  admit  of  all  that  and  a  journey  to  France. 
Though,  with  our  simple  habits,  a  little  money  would 
go  a  long  way. " 

Marguerite  had  lost  sight  of  this  fact  in  Narka's  posi- 
tion, that  she  and  her  mother  were  very  poor,  dependent 
almost  wholly  on  the  generosity  of  the  Zorokoffs,  who 
had  given  them  a  cottage  and  a  large  garden. 

"  But  you  have  travelled  already  ?"  Marguerite  said. 

"I  have  been  to  St.  Petersburg  several  times  with  the 
Princess;  we  spent  some  winters  there,  and  had  mas- 
ters. It  was  there  chiefly  that  I  learned  singing.  The 
Princess  had  me  taught  by  a  great  Italian  master  from 
Rome.  What  a  delightful  man  he  was,  and  liow  I  did 
enjoy  his  lessons!  We  used  to  go  twice  a  week  to  the 
opera — your  aunt  was  so  good  to  me !  She  was  an  angel, 
the  Princess.     I  was  always  sorry  she  was  not  Russian." 

Marguerite  smiled.  "I  hope  you  will  come  soon  to> 
France  and  stay  with  us,"  she  said.  "I  do  so  long  to 
convert  you !" 

' '  That  would  be  a  cruel  trick  to  play  me.  I  should' 
be  either  sent  to  Siberia  or  put  into  a  dungeon  for  the^ 
rest  of  my  life." 

"Oh !  I  did  not  mean  a  religious  conversion ;  I  meant 
to  convert  you  to  being  a  little  more  French  and  a  little 
less  Russian.  They  would  not  put  you  in  prison  for 
that  ?" 

"  No,  they  would  not  put  me  in  prison  for  that.  But 
ought  you  not  to  be  satisfied  with  having  converted 
Sibyl  ?  Don't  you  think  she  is  a  very  creditable  con- 
vert ?" 


Karka.  25 

"  On  tlie  whole;  but  she  has  many  heresies  still;  she 
maintains,  for  instance,  that  the  climate  here  is  better 
than  in  France,  that  she  never  felt  so  cold  in  St.  Peters- 
burg as  she  does  in  Paris.  She  also  clings  to  the  belief 
that  a  paternal  Muscovite  government  is  the  best  in  the 
world.  There  is  only  one  point  on  which  her  conver- 
sion is  entirely  satisfactory.  She  admits  that  French 
husbands  are  perfection.  Would  it  be  hopeless  to  try 
to  convert  you  to  that  belief,  Narka  ?" 

"Quite!'' — spoken  very  emphatically. 

"How  heartily  you  say  that!  I  don't  wonder  you 
owe  a  grudge  to  the  race  for  having  stolen  away  Sibyl. 
What  a  loss  she  must  have  been  to  you !" 

"  And  not  to  me  only.  Her  departure  left  all  these 
poor  people"— glancing  round  over  the  country — ' '  at  the 
mercy  of  the  Jews  and  the  bureaucrats,  who  prey  on 
them  like  wolves." 

"  But  don't  tlie  Prince  and  Basil  protect  them  ?" 

"Basil  does  what  he  can ;  but  he  has  not  much  power. 
As  to  the  Prince,  he  is  nearly  always  at  St.  Petersburg, 
looking  after  the  future.  Meanwhile  the  Stanovoi,  who 
is  a  gi'asping.  cruel  man,  has  it  all  his  own  way;  he 
and  Larchoff  are  in  league — a  pair  of  devils." 

"The  Prince  must  be  a  very  odd  man,"  Marguerite 
•said,  looking  confidential.  "My  maid  tells  me  stories 
about  his  goings  on  when  he  is  here  that  would  make 
■one  think  he  was  stark,  staring  mad." 

Narka  laughed.  "  I  dare  say  he  would  be  locked  up 
•as  a  lunatic  in  any  country  but  Russia;  but  his  mad- 
ness is  harmless  enough — more  so,  indeed,  than  his  sane- 
ness.  He  keeps  everybody  in  commotion  day  and  night 
-while  he  is  here.  He  never  goes  to  bed  or  undresses  at 
night;  he  smokes  and  drops  asleep  in  a  chair,  sitting 
holt-upright ;  every  now  and  then  he  falls  off  his  chair 


26  JVarka. 

and  bangs  himself  on  the  ground;  and  then  he  starts 
up,  seizes  his  gun,  that  is  always  beside  him,  rushes  to 
the  window,  and  fires  out  at  the  night.  He  does  this 
four  times,  rushing  to  the  four  sides  of  the  house  as  fast 
as  he  can  go,  and  throwing  open  the  windows  with  as 
much  noise  as  he  can  make.  Sibyl  and  Basil  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  to  prevent  him  doing  it  this  last  time ; 
they  said  you  would  all  be  so  frightened,  and  they 
should  not  know  what  to  say  to  you  to  explain  it." 

Marguerite's  eyes  grew  round  with  amazement. 
"And  was  that  why  the  Prince  ran  away  in  such  a 
hurry  ?" 

"  Probably  that  had  something  to  do  with  his  flight. 
He  says  he  can  never  sleep  a  night  through  here  with- 
out exercising  himself  in  fire-arms,  and  he  pretends  it  is 
protection  to  the  village  against  wolves  and  Larchoff." 

"He  certainly  would  pass  for  a  lunatic  in  France," 
said  Marguerite,  her  face  bi'eaking  into  dimples  of  sup- 
pressed laughter.  "And  used  he  go  on  in  that  way 
when  Aunt  Isabella  was  alive  ?" 

"Not  so  badly.  She  kept  him  in  order.  He  gave 
her  his  word  once  that  he  would  not  shoot  at  the  night 
for  a  month;  but  one  night  he  jumped  out  of  bed  and 
emptied  his  revolver  through  the  window  as  fast  as  he 
could  shoot;  the  Princess  rushed  in  and  caught  him  in 
the  act,  and  he  declared  he  had  been  asleep  and  dream- 
ing, and  had  no  intention  of  breaking  his  word.  He 
went  back  to  bed;  but  presently  she  and  all  of  us  heard 
a  noise  from  down-stairs  of  some  one  howling  in  pain. 
We  all  rushed  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  hall  was  the  Prince  wliipping 
himself  with  all  his  might,  and  roaring  like  a  bull.  He 
said  lie  could  7iot  go  to  sleep  witli  remorse  for  having 
broken  his  word,  and  felt  he  must  get  up  and  whip  him- 


JVarka.  21 

self  as  he  would  have  had  one  of  the  sei'vants  whipped 
for  offending  in  the  same  way.  The  Princess  hesought 
him  to  stop,  but  he  woukl  not;  he  went  on  whipping 
and  yelling  till  he  had  given  himself  the  number  of 
stripes  he  thought  proper,  and  then  he  went  up  to  bed; 
his  back  was  scarred  with  welts,  and  hurt  him  for  days." 

Marguerite  was  seized  with  such  an  immoderate  fit  of 
laughter  that  she  had  to  rein  in  her  horse  and  go  at  a 
foot's  pace  till  it  was  over.  "Why,  he  is  as  mad  as  any 
maniac  in  Charenton !"  she  exclaimed,  when  she  was 
able  to  speak. 

"He  is  a  little  eccentric,"  said  Narka;  "but  his  ec- 
centricities are  all  veiy  harmless.  The  Princess  kept 
them  within  bounds,  and  so  did  Sibyl  in  a  lesser  de- 
gree." 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  miss  Sibyl." 

They  cantered  on  a  little  way  without  speaking. 

"There  is  one  good  thing  that  has  come  to  me  out  of 
Sibyl's  departure,"  Narka  resumed.  "  It  has  led  to 
mother's  and  my  living  in  the  village.  You  can't  get 
reallj'  to  sympathize  with  the  sufferings  of  people,  and 
help  them,  until  j'ou  come  close  enough  to  share  them ; 
we  never  realize  them  so  long  as  we  are  in  a  fool's  par- 
adise of  luxury  and  ease.  The  pain  of  poverty  is  like 
every  other  pain;  nothing  but  jiersonal  experience  can 
make  us  understand  it,  and  teach  us  the  kind  of  relief  it 
wants.  It  is  like  a  man  born  in  the  tropics  trying  to 
realize  cold  from  a  description  in  a  book.  He  never 
could  do  it.  No  description  could  give  him  the  physical 
sensation  of  feet  and  hands  tingling  and  perishing,  of 
blood  chilled  in  his  veins,  of  eyes  blinded  and  smarting 
in  a  bitter  icj^  wind.  He  must  leave  the  tropics  and  go 
up  into  a  Northern  climate  to  know  what  it  all  means. 
To  live  in  a  great  palace  amidst  luxury  and  abundance 


28  Karha. 

of  every  sort  is  like  living  in  the  tropics.  I  never  real- 
ized what  our  wretched  peasants  had  to  endure  until  I 
came  to  live  amongst  them  in  the  village,  and  saw  how 
they  suffer  in  every  way — from  poverty,  from  the  cli- 
mate, from  ignorance,  and,  above  all,  from  the  cruelty  of 
the  Jews  and  the  government  officials." 

"But  is  there  no  redress?  Is  there  no  justice  to  be 
had  for  them  ?" 

"Father  Christopher  keeps  telling  them  they  will  get 
justice  in  the  next  woi'ld." 

"Even  in  this  there  are  laws  to  protect  the  weak 
against  the  sti'ong.  God  has  not  left  Himself  without 
w^itnesses  on  the  earth." 

' '  I  wonder  where  His  witnesses  are  in  Russia  ?"  Narka 
laughed. 

"The  people  themselves  are  His  witnesses  ;  they  be- 
lieve and  they  hope  in  Him." 

"Then  why  does  He  let  them  be  crushed  and  tortured 
and  destroyed  ?" 

"Oh,  Narka,  that  pagan  'why'  is  always  in  your 
mouth  I" 

"It  is  in  the  mouth  of  the  people  everywhei'e — every- 
where. They  are  down-trodden,  and  oppressed,  and 
made  to  suffer  injustice." 

' '  Not  in  France, "  protested  Marguerite.  ' '  The  people 
are  not  down-trodden  there." 

"They  are  in  Russia.  Why  are  they?  Why  does 
God  pei'mit  it?  If  His  justice  is  anywhere  on  earth,  it 
ought  to  be  everywhere — in  Russia  as  well  as  in  France." 

"  Wrong  cannot  be  made  right  in  a  day.  We  must 
be  patient." 

' '  We  are  patient,  heroically  patient — under  the  wrongs 
and  sufferings  of  others."  The  passionate  irony  in  Nar- 
ka's  voice  sounded  more  bitter  than  the  words  themselves. 


Narha.  29 

**  I  am  sure  we  are  trying  to  make  the  world  less  bad 
and  life  less  hard  on  the  poor," said  Marguerite.  "Don't 
you  think  that  they  have  much  less  to  sufiFer  now  than 
they  had  a  thousand  years  ago  ? — or  even  a  liundred  ?'' 

' '  In  France,  I  dare  say,  thanks  to  your  glorious  Rev- 
olution." 

"Oh,  Narka!  you  call  it  glorious?  That  dreadful 
reign  of  terror,  when  the  people  rose  up  against  God  and 
murdered  the  King!"  Marguerite  felt  again  that  vague 
repulsion  which  had  made  her  more  than  once  shrink 
away  from  Narka. 

' '  The  people  rose  against  a  reign  of  ty I'anny  that  had 
ended  by  driving  them  mad.  Would  that  Russia  could 
follow  the  example  of  France,  and  have  her  revolu- 
tion !" 

Marguerite  was  shocked  at  the  passionate  hatred  ex- 
pressed in  Narka's  tone  and  words  ;  but  she  remembered 
her  father  di-opping  on  the  road  into  exile,  and  her 
young  brother  dying  in  Siberia,  and  revulsion  gave  way 
to  pity. 

"If  you  ever  make  a  revolution  in  Russia,"  she  said, 
"let  it  be  a  revolution  of  love,  not  of  hate." 

Narka  laughed.  "And  burst  our  chains  by  kissing 
them." 

"There  is  nothing  love  might  not  do  if  people  would 
only  believe  in  it, "  said  Marguerite ;  "  if  only  they  would 
let  it  rule  the  woi-ld  instead  of  hatred.  If  they  would 
let  it  have  its  way  lilce  the  blessed  sunshine  it  would 
turn  this  world  into  a  paradise.  I  wonder  why  people 
can't  believe  in  love  ?" 

As  she  threw  back  her  head,  and  put  this  question  to 
the  winter  sky,  there  was  a  light  in  her  eyes  that  con- 
trasted strikingly  with  the  flame  in  Narka's — the  light  of 
love  and  the  flame  of  hate — hate  just  in  its  cause  and 


30  JSTarka. 

cruelly  provoked,  but  even  in  those  beautiful  eyes  its 
eflfect  was  repulsive. 

Narka  was  surprised  to  see  what  strength  of  feeling 
lay  beneath  the  bright,  buoyant,  and  seemingly  thought- 
less happiness  of  the  young  French  girl.  Sibyl  was 
right:  there  were  slumbering  forces  underlying  Ma^-- 
guerite's  nature  which  only  needed  certain  opportunities 
to  develop.  Narka  felt  this  recognition  forced  upon  her, 
and  she  would  not  perhaps  have  acknowledged  that  the 
discovery  caused  her  something  like  a  sense  of  alarm  or 
disappointment.  The  two  girls,  as  by  tacit  consent,  put 
their  horses  into  a  canter,  and  rode  on  a  long  way  with- 
out exchanging  a  word. 

At  last  Narka  said,  "We  must  not  forget  that  we  have 
to  get  back."  She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  saw  that  it 
was  four  o'clock.  They  turned  their  horses'  heads 
homeward. 

In  those  Northeastern  countries  the  twilight  is  short, 
and  night  closes  in  almost  as  suddenly  as  the  di'opping 
of  a  curtain.  When  they  re-entered  the  village  of  Yra- 
kow  it  was  growing  dark;  the  moon  had  risen,  and  a 
few  stars  had  sprung  out.  Just  as  the  castle  came  in 
sight  the  two  riders  were  startled  by  shrieks  that  seemed 
to  come  from  the  forest.  They  pulled  up  their  horses 
and  stopped  to  listen.  In  a  moment  the  groom,  whom 
a  curve  in  the  road  had  hidden,  came  trotting  up,  and 
said  sometliing  in  Russian  which  evidently  alarmed 
Narka.  She  was  going  to  turn  back,  when  some  further 
information  from  tlie  servant  caused  her  to  change  her 
intention,  and  she  went  on. 

"What  has  happened?"  inquired  Marguerite. 

"  He  does  not  know,  but  he  saw  Sophie  GorfiP  running 
from  the  road  without  anything  on  lier  head." 

"Was  she  running  from  the  wolf,  do  you  think?" 


Narka.  31 

"That  is  not  likely:  the  wolf  would  have  been  pur- 
suing her."  Narka  stopped  her  horse  again  and  hesi- 
tated ;  but  after  a  short  parley  with  the  groom  she  rode 
on  again. 

"Sophie  is  out  of  harm's  way  now,  at  aiay  rate,"  she 
said.  "Dmitri  saw  her  cross  the  road  toward  her  own 
house.     What  could  it  have  been  ?" 

Moved  by  lingering  curiosity,  they  both  cast  a  back- 
ward glance  toward  the  forest.  As  they  looked,  they 
heard  the  report  of  a  gun. 

"Who  can  be  shooting  at  this  hour?"  exclaimed 
Narka.      "It  must  be  as  black  as  night  in  the  forest." 

Presently  they  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  carrying  a 
gun  emerging  from  the  road  adjoining  the  park. 

"It  is  Basil,  I  do  believe,"  said  Marguerite.  "I  dare 
say  it  was  he  who  frightened  Sophie."  She  called  out 
and  made  signs  with  her  whip,  but  Basil  held  on  his 
way,  and  strode  across  the  pax*k  without  looking  round. 

"  How  stupid  of  him  not  to  hear!"  said  Marguerite. 

"Perhaps  he  hears,  but  does  not  want  to  come  out  of 
his  way." 

"Is  he  such  a  boor  as  to  do  that?  No  Frenchman 
alive  would  be  capable  of  anything  so  rude,"  protested 
Marguerite,  indignantly. 

Narka's  face  positively  beamed  as  she  looked  at  her. 
"You  think  Frenchmen  are  so  much  mox'e  gallant? 
You  think  Eussians  are  boors  ?" 

"I  think  Basil  is  behaving  like  a  boor,  and  I  shall 
tell  him  so,"  said  Marguerite,  with  the  prettiest  show  of 
offended  dignity. 

Narka  gave  a  light  laugh  that  sounded  musically 
sweet. 

"  I  want  to  stop  a  few  minutes  hei-e,"  Marguerite  said, 
as  they  came  to  the  little  Catholic  chapel.     "Do  you 


32  Narka. 

mind  going  on  alone,  and  leaving  Dmitri  to  mind  my 
horse  ?" 

"Why  may  I  not  wait  and  come  in  with  you  ?"  said 
Narka. 

"Oh!  if  you  don't  mind." 

They  both  alighted  and  went  in. 

The  chapel  was  merely  an  oratory  attached  to  the 
house  where  Father  Christopher  lived.  It  had  been 
built  for  him  by  the  Princess  when  his  office  of  tutor  to 
Basil  came  to  an  end.  The  Roman  Catholics  at  Yrakow 
were  few,  and  these  with  others  scattered  through  neigh- 
boring villages  on  Prince  Zorokoff's  estates  were  the 
persons  who  profited  by  the  old  priest's  ministry.  His 
congregation  was  composed  chiefly  of  foreigners — ^pro- 
fessors  and  servants — residing  in  families  or  living  in 
th&  villages;  but,  small  as  it  was,  it  gave  him  a  good 
deal  to  do,  owing  to  the  distances  over  which  it  was  scat- 
tered. He  had  to  visit  the  sick  in  places  a  long  way  off, 
and  these  distant  visits  were  one  of  the  whips  that 
LarchoflF  held  over  the  father's  head.  They  afforded  an 
outward  semblance  of  truth  to  the  charge  of  proselyting 
which  Larchoff  was  constantly  threatening  to  bring 
against  him,  and  which  in  Russia  is  regarded  as  a  hei- 
nous crime,  visited,  like  high  treason,  with  the  penalty 
of  death. 

The  little  chapel  was  almost  dark;  there  was  no  light 
but  the  red  glow  of  the  sanctuary  lamp.  A  few  wor- 
shippers were  kneeling  in  tlie  shadows,  waiting  for 
Father  Christopher  to  come  into  the  confessional.  Mar- 
guerite knelt  down  at  the  altar  rail,  and  was  at  once 
absorbed  in  her  devotions.  Narka,  from  a  prie-dieu  a 
little  behind,  watched  her  with  an  odd  mixture  of  admi- 
ration, envy,  and  satisfaction.  The  faith  that  could  thus 
absorb  a  human  being  in  an  instant  must  be  very  strong 


Narka.  33 

— too  strong  to  be  shaken  by  any  earthly  feelings,  by 
any  mundane  interests,  by  any  pi-omptings  of  passion. 
Narka  had  had  a  glimpse  into  Marguerite's  nature,  and 
that  glimpse  had  shown  her,  beneath  the  light,  child- 
like exterior,  a  woman  endowed  with  a  supei'natural 
creed  which  makes  the  weakest  creature  invulnerable 
against  self,  fitting  her  to  cope  victoriously  with  perils 
against  which  mere  natural  strength  is  frail  and  faith- 
less. How  fervently  the  girl  prayed!  In  the  red  light 
of  the  lamp  above  her  Narka  could  see  her  lips  moving 
rapidly.  She  envied  her  being  able  to  pray  like  that. 
But  it  was  easy, for  Marguerite  to  do  so;  it  was  easy  for 
her  to  believe  in  God's  love,  and  call  Him  Father,  and 
ask  that  His  will  might  be  done.  He  had  been  a  father 
to  her,  and  His  will  had  been  always  kind  and  loving. 
He  had  not  tried  her  faith  by  injustice  and  cruel  wrong; 
He  had  not  confounded  her  hope  and  turned  it  to 
despair.  This  loss  of  faith  in  an  Almighty  love  was 
perhaps  the  bitterest  suffering  which  the  hai*d  ways  of 
God  and  man  inflicted  on  their  helpless  victims,  Narka 
thought,  as  she  watched  the  happy  young  French  girl 
praying. 

They  had  not  been  many  minutes  in  the  chapel  when 
Father  Christopher  entered  from  the  sacristy,  and  after 
kneeling  a  moment  before  the  tabernacle,  went  into  the 
confessional. 

Marguerite  stood  up,  and  whispei'ed  to  Narka, 

"Would  there  be  time  for  me  to  wait  and  go  to  con- 
fession now  ?" 

"Oh  no,"  Nax'ka  replied;  "it  is  too  late.  You  had 
better  come  to-morrow  morning.  You  will  find  hira 
before  mass." 

Marguerite  assented,  and  they  went  out  and  rode 
home. 
3 


3i  JVarka. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

They  were  now  assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  Sibyl 
busy  at  her  tapestry,  Narka  sitting,  with  her  long  white 
hands  in  her  lap,  waiting  to  pour  out  the  tea.  Marguerite 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book  of  old  engravings  with 
an  air  of  excited  interest,  M.  de  Beaucrillon  deep  in  his 
newspapers,  and  Basil  measuring  the  long  length  of  the 
room,  slowly  jiacing  up  and  down,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  a  cigai^ette  in  his  mouth,  his  handsome  face 
clouded  by  an  air  of  abstraction,  almost  of  sadness,  as 
his  thoughts  were  far  away  from  tlie  company  grouped 
round  the  lamp.  Presently,  passing  near  the  table,  he 
looked  up,  and  his  eyes  rested  on  his  cousin.  It  was  a 
picture  on  which  any  man's  eyes  must  have  rested  com- 
placently. Marguerite's  face  had  little  claim  to  admira- 
tion beside  Sibyl's  blond  loveliness  and  Narka's  rich 
beauty  of  line  and  coloring,  and  yet  there  was  a  charm 
about  its  irregular  features  that  made  it  no  contemptible 
rival  to  either.  It  was  the  very  personification  of  youth- 
ful brightness  and  health;  the  small  spirited  nose  was 
moi'e  piquant  than  if  it  had  been  classical,  and  the  whole 
face  sparkled  with  happiness  and  curiosity.  This  even- 
ing all  her  prettiness  and  brightness  were  further  en- 
hanced by  an  irresistible  little  demi-toilet  of  a  white 
gauzy  material,  rose-colored  ribbons  in  bows  and  loops 
sprouting  out  of  the  white  foam  as  naturally  as  the  rose- 
colored  flower  sprouted  out  of  the  curls  and  coils  of  her 
glossy  brown  hair.     Marguerite  was  intent  on  the  en- 


JVarka.  35 

gravings.  Suckleii]3',  with  an  exclaniatiou  of  dismay, 
"Sibyl,"  she  cried,  "I  have  made  a  dreadful  mistake!" 

They  all  looked  vip,  interested  and  attentive.  Basil 
stopped  in  his  walk  to  hear. 

"  That  head-dress  that  I  sketched  and  sent  to  Paris  for 
■will  be  out  of  keeping.  I  now  remember  it  was  in  a 
porti-ait  of  Velasquez  that  I  saw  it ;  so  fancy  how  it  will 
clash  with  that  Florentine  thirteenth-century  costume ! 
What  shall  I  do  ?" 

"What  were  we  all  thinking  about?"  said  Sibyl. 
Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection :  "  Really,  ma  cherie," 
she  added,  "I  don't  think  you  need  Avorry  about  it. 
No  one  here  is  likely  to  find  out  the  anachronism.  If 
it  were  in  Paris,  now — " 

"That  is  a  pretty  character  you  are  giving  us,"  said 
Basil,  who  had  been  listening  Avith  intense  amusement 
to  Marguerite's  distressing  confession.  "You  want  to 
make  out  that  in  Russia  we  are  a  set  of  barbarians  and 
dunces." 

"  Dear,  I  would  not  woiTy  about  it,"  Sibj'l  continued, 
addi'essing  herself  with  sympathetic  earnestness  to  Mar- 
guerite. "As  a  head-di-ess  it  will  suit  you  beautifully, 
and  that  is  the  great  point.  Not  that  I  fully  approved 
of  your  choice  of  the  costume ;  you  know  I  said  I 
thought  a  Greuze  would  suit  you  better." 

"AGreuzel"  exclaimed  Basil, contemptuously,  and  he 
threw  his  hands  up  to  the  ceiling.  "Trust  one  pretty 
woman  for  advising  another  to  her  ruin !  You  ought  to 
have  consulted  a  man,  cousin;  you  ought  to  have  con- 
sulted me;  I  would  have  advised  you  honestly,  to  your 
advantage.  Since  you  won't  be  Red  Riding-hood,  and 
let  me  play  W^olf  to  you,  why  shouldn't  you  go  as  Jeze- 
bel or  Judith  ? — Jezebel  with  a  hatchet,  or  Judith  with  a 
drawn  sword  ?     I'll  lend  you  one  as  big  as  yourself,  and 


36  Narha. 

show  you  how  to  carry  it.  You  woukl  look  superbly 
tragic  in  a  Jewish  turban.  Or,  if  you  like  something 
more  modern,  there  is  Charlotte  Corday — " 

Marguerite  seized  one  of  Sibyl's  balls  of  wool,  took 
aim,  and  hit  the  scoffer  right  on  the  nose. 

"Bravo!  What  a  capital  shot!  If  this  had  been  a 
bullet  aimed  at  my  heart,  I  was  a  dead  man,"  said  Basil, 
catching  the  ball  and  weighing  it  in  his  hand.  "By- 
the-way,  as  you  are  such  a  shot,  little  cousin,  why  should 
not  you  go  as  Diana  the  huntress  ?  I  will  teach  you 
how  to  draw  the  bow  if  you  like." 

"Cousin  Basil,"  said  Marguerite,  slapping  the  engrav- 
ing of  Anne  of  Austria  with  a  heavy  paper-knife,  and 
facing  her  tormentor,  "  I  can't  think  Avhy  I  don't  hate 
and  detest  you,  for  you  aggravate  me  moi'c  than  any- 
body I  know." 

"  That  is  precisely  why,"  said  Basil. 

"Why  what?" 

"  Why  you  are  so  fond  of  me.  It's  because  I  aggra- 
vate you." 

"Oh! — is  it?  Well,  just  leave  off  aggravating,  and 
see  if  I  don't  grow  fonder  and  fonder  of  you." 

"You  might  grow  too  fond  of  me!"  surveying  her 
with  a  comical  air  of  alarm. 

She  glanced  up  at  him  with  a  flash  of  mirth  and  mis- 
chief in  her  brown  eyes.  "Well,"  she  said,  slowly, 
as  if  weighing  consequences,  "I  might;  but  I'll  risk  it, 
if  you  don't  mind." 

He  sat  down  opposite  to  her,  leaned  forward,  and  began, 
stroking  his  silken  beard  meditatively;  this  skirmishing 
with  his  pretty  cousin  was  delightful.  "  It  is  a  desperate 
risk  for  me  to  run,"  he  remarked,  solemnly. 

"Run  it!"  said  Sibyl,  entering  merrily  into  the  fray; 
' '  don't  be  a  coward !" 


NurJca.  37 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Marguerite,  slapping  Anne 
of  Austria  again  with  the  paper-knife,  "here  are  three 
competent  judges :  there  is  Narka,  an  artist  and  a  mystic ; 
Sibyl,  a  superior  and  cultivated  woman;  Gaston,  a  yAu.- 
lanthropist  and  a  politician." 

"Heavens!  what  names  \o\x  are  giving  us  all!"  pro- 
tested M.  de  Beaucrillon,  laying  down  his  newspaper  and 
looking  up  in  surprised  expectation. 

Something  in  her  brother's  astonished  face,  or  perhaps 
a  twinkle  in  Basil's  eye,  recalled  Marguerite  to  the  fact 
that  she  was  on  slippery  ground,  and  cut  short  the  ap- 
peal she  was  about  to  make  to  the  three  judges.  "I 
wish  Gaston  would  tell  you  not  to  be  so  disagreeable," 
she  said,  turning  away  like  a  naughty  child,  and  blush- 
ing as  red  as  the  flower  in  her  hair, 

"For  goodness'  sake  don't  set  them  fighting,  or  there 
will  be  no  living  in  the  house!''  protested  Sibyl,  coming 
to  the  rescue  with  her  subtle  tact,  for  she  saw  Mar- 
guerite's embarrassment;  "and  we  shall  want  jDcace 
amongst  ourselves  if  we  are  to  keei>  any  kind  of  order 
amongst  our  friends  and  relations." 

"How  many  are  we  going  to  be,  all  told — do  you 
know  ?''  asked  Basil. 

"About  three  hundred." 

"All  staying  in  the  house!"  exclaimed  Marguerite. 
"Oh!  how  many  guest-rooms  have  3-0U  ?" 

"Seventy-five.  But  then  there  is  the  armory;  about 
a  hundred  manage  to  sleep  there;  they  did  at  my  mar- 
riage." 

"But  there  are  no  beds  in  the  armory,"  said  Mar- 
guerite, more  and  more  amazed. 

"We  don't  i^ut  up  beds,"  said  Basil.  "  People  bring 
their  own  beds  and  x)illows;  that  is  our  barbarian  mode 
of  proceeding." 


38  JSTarJca. 

"What  fan!"  said  Marguerite.  "It  must  be  like 
camping  out,  with  all  the  warriors  and  coats  of  mail 
mounting  guard  over  one.  I  dare  say  they  enjoy  it 
very  much." 

"They  seemed  to  do  so  last  time,  if  one  might  judge 
from  the  noise  they  made,"  remarked  Narka,  Avho  had 
been  silent  for  a  long  time,  and  watching  Marguerite 
with  a  coldly  critical  expression  that  would  have  fright- 
ened the  girl  if  she  had  noticed  it.  "  They  kept  it  up  till 
all  hours  of  the  morning,  and  I  got  very  little  sleep,  for 
my  room  was  over  the  encampment." 

"They  did  make  a  most  infernal  racket  one  night," 
said  Basil,  with  a  boyish  laugh,  as  if  the  recollection  of 
the  racket  were  very  pleasant.  "Some  youngster  pro- 
posed that  they  should  all  get  into  the  coats  of  mail 
and  march  out  into  the  park  like  a  phantom  procession, 
and  frighten  the  wits  out  of  everybody.  The  joke  was 
at  once  adopted,  and  tliey  were  buckling  themselves  into 
the  armor,  when  Larchoff,  who  was  too  drunk  to  know 
what  he  was  about,  pulled  off  his  boot  and  began  to 
hammer  at  some  warriox*'s  helmet.  They  had  to  fall  on 
him,  half  a  dozen  of  them,  and  strap  him  into  a  big  suit 
of  mail,  and  then  bind  his  legs  so  that  he  had  to  lie  quiet. 
He  bellowed  under  the  operation  like  a  bull.  It  was 
awful.  No  Avonder  Narka  could  not  sleep.  I  hope  you 
won't  put  Larchoff  in  the  armory  this  time,  Sibyl." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  that  dreadful  man  is  in- 
vited !"  Marguerite  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  incredulity. 

"He  was  not  invited  then,"  said  Sibyl;  "but  he 
thought  it  would  be  pleasant,  so  he  came  without  being 
asked.     Larchoff  we  se  gene  23as.''^ 

"I  can't  understand  your  letting  him  into  the  house 
at  all,"  said  Marguerite. 

"My  cousin,  there  are  many  things  in  this  country 


JSTarJca.  39 

that  you  can't  understand,"  remarked  Basil,  with  a  pecul- 
iar laugh. 

There  were  indeed  very  few  things  in  Russian  life,  it 
seemed  to  Marguerite,  that  she  could  understand.  The 
mixture  of  Oriental  magnificence  and  harbarous  dis- 
comfort, of  lavish  expenditure  and  shabby  makeshift — 
letting  guests  bring  their  bedding  and  encamp  on  floors, 
and  setting  them  gold  plate  to  eat  off — these  things  were 
in  their  way  as  puzzling  to  her  as  that  Prince  ZorokofP 
should  tolerate  under  his  roof  and  admit  to  his  table 
such  a  wretch  as  Larcholf. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  had  not  been  joining  in  the  conver- 
sation; he  had  been  deep  in  his  newspai^ers;  but  he  had 
now  finished  them,  and  got  up  and  drew  a  chair  to  the 
tea-table,  "Mademoiselle,  I  should  like  a  cup  of  tea," 
he  said. 

Narka  took  the  teapot  from  the  samovar,  and  was 
proceeding  to  pour  out  the  tea,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Vasili,  Basil's  valet,  pale  and  scared,  stood  on  the 
threshold,  and  said  something  in  Russiaai.  It  was  an- 
swered by  an  exclamation  of  horror  from  the  three  who 
understood. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  M.  de  Beaucrillon. 

The  man,  Avho  spoke  French  freely,  replied,  "Count 
Larchoft"  has  been  murdered!" 

For  a  moment  horror  seemed  to  have  rendered  every 
one  speechless;  then  they  plied  Vasili  with  questions. 
His  story  was  short.  Two  peasants  had  found  the  count 
lying  in  the  forest  with  a  gunshot  wound  in  his  chest. 
They  thought  he  Avas  dead,  and  carried  him  to  the  near- 
est cottage.  He  regained  consciousness,  and  tried  hard 
to  say  something,  but  no  one  could  understand.  At 
last  they  distinguished  the  words  "Forgive!  forgive! 
Father  Christopher,"     They  thought  he  wanted  to  con- 


40  Narha. 

fess,  and  some  one  ran  for  Fatlier  Christopher,  while 
two  others  fetched  the  doctor  and  the  pope.  Father 
Christopher  "was  nearest ;  he  was  in  the  confessional 
when  the  message  came,  and  rushed  out  as  he  was. 
Wlien  he  got  to  the  cottage,  Larclioff  was  still  breathing. 
By  the  time  the  iDope  arrived  it  was  all  over. 

"Who  brought  this  news?"  Basil  inquired. 

"Paul  the  cobbler." 

"And  at  w^hat  time  is  it  supposed  the  murder  was 
committed  V 

"About  sundown.  The  count  was  found  at  eight 
o'clock,  and  the  doctor  said  the  wound  must  have  bled 
for  tliree  or  four  hours." 

"Oh,  Narka !"  cried  Marguerite,  turning  a  shade 
paler,  "that  must  have  been  the  shot  we  heard."  She 
stopped  short,  terrified  by  the  expression  on  Narka's  face ; 
and  glancing  involuntarily  toward  Basil,  she  read  an 
answering  horror  in  his  eyes. 

Sibyl  and  Gaston,  who  were  trying  to  elicit  further 
details  fi^om  Vasili,  had  noticed  nothing.  A  sudden 
noise  made  them  look  quickly  round. 

Mai'guerite  liad  fainted.  She  fell  forward,  and  must 
have  fallen  to  the  ground  if  Basil  had  not  caught  her  in 
his  arms. 

"Poor  child!  No  wonder  she  is  overcome!"  Sibyl 
exclaimed,  rushing  to  assist. 

Basil  carried  the  fainting  girl  to  a  divan,  and  laid  her 
gently  down. 

"You  had  better  go  away,  both  of  you,  and  leave  her 
to  us,"  Sibyl  said.      "  It  will  be  nothing." 

The  two  gentlemen  saw  they  could  be  of  no  use,  and 
went  away,  Gaston  too  much  excited  by  the  awful  event 
which  had  caused  Marguerite's  swoon  to  attach  niucli 
importance  to  so  natural  an  accident. 


Narl-a.  41 

The  swoon  lasted  nearly  an  hour,  in  spite  of  Sibyl's 
incessant  application  of  restoratives  and  Narka's  con- 
stant friction  of  Marguerite's  hands  and  feet.  When  at 
last  Marguerite  opened  her  eyes  and  gave  signs  of  re- 
turning consciousness,  Narka  said: 

"We  had  better  let  her  sit  up  now.  Bring  a  cush- 
ion from  the  red  sofa — a  big  one."  Then,  Sibyl  having 
moved  away,  she  bent  over  Marguerite,  and  said,  in  a 
whisper:  "  Don't  let  idle  fears  distui'b  you,  dear.  Keep 
perfect  silence  for  a  "while." 

She  raised  her  to  a  sitting  position,  Sibyl  propped  her 
up  tenderly,  and  then,  at  Nai-ka's  suggestion,  they  left 
her  to  recover  herself  a  little. 

Meantime  Basil  and  Gaston  had  gone  round  to  the 
servants'  hall  to  see  Paul  the  cobbler,  and  hear  the  ghast- 
ly story  over  again. 

"Let  us  go  down  to  the  village  and  see  Father  Chris- 
topher," said  Gaston,  when  Paul  had  confirmed  the  few 
details  given  by  Vasili.  "We  shall  hear  if  any  one  is 
suspected  of  the  murder,  and  if  Larchoff  was  really  con- 
scious when  the  father  saw  him." 

Basil  seemed  reluctant;  he  urged  that  the  father  could 
not  possibly  have  any  more  to  tell  than  they  had  already 
heard ;  but  Gaston  was  bent  on  it ;  so  they  went.  It  was 
a  beautiful  starlight  night,  but  as  a  matter  of  course  a 
number  of  servants  lighted  lanterns  as  if  it  had  been 
pitch-dark,  and  accompanied  the  two  gentlemen.  M.  de 
Beaucrillon  would  have  liked  to  talk  with  them,  to  hear 
what  they  thought  about  the  crime,  Avhether  their  instinct 
or  information  pointed  with  any  suspicion  to  the  mur- 
derer; but  he  could  not  speak  Russian,  and  none  of  them 
spoke  French,  and  Basil  seemed  too  stunned  to  be  willing 
to  play  the  interpreter.  He  let  his  companion  keep  up  a 
monologue  without  uttering  a  word. 


42  NarJca. 

"I  suppose  these  crimes  are  not  frequent  in  tlie  rural 
districts  in  Russia."  "The  people  in  their  hearts  can- 
not be  sorry  to  be  I'id  of  such  a  devil,  and  yet  I  dare  say 
they  will  not  try  to  screen  the  murderer  from  the  police." 
"The  Russian  police  are  wonderfully  clever,  I  believe, 
but  one  only  hears  of  them  as  political  agents,"  etc. 

Basil  never  opened  his  lips  to  any  of  these  obviously 
interrogative  remarlcs,  but  when  Gaston  said  something 
about  the  pi'obable  difficulty  of  finding  direct  evidence 
to  bring  the  criminal  to  justice,  he  retorted,  with  sudden 
vehemence : 

"Justice !  They  will  call  the  bullet  that  struck  down 
Larchoff  justice.  The  man  who  fired  it  will  not  be  a 
criminal  in  the  eyes  of  any  man,  or  woman  either,  in  the 
country  for  a  hundred  miles  round.  They  won't  call 
the  deed  murder;  they  will  call  it  God's  justice  overtak- 
ing the  wicked." 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  had  not  expected  to  see  Basil  moved 
by  any  feeling  of  pity  for  the  wretched  man  whose  hands 
had  been  a  scourge  and  a  sword  dealing  pain  and  death 
unmei'cifully  to  his  people,  but  it  shocked  him  a  little  to 
hear  Sibyl's  brother  speak  in  a  tone  of  almost  triumphant 
approval  of  the  bloody  deed  itself.  He  made  no  further 
comment,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence  to  Father  Chris- 
topher's door. 

The  old  i)riest  had  just  returned  from  the  dead  man's 
house;  he  was  tlie  only  person  who  liad  accompanied  the 
body  thither  from  the  peasant's  cottage  where  it  had  first 
been  carried.  No  one  else  was  willing  to  pay  that  tribute 
of  respect  to  Larchoif. 

"You  have  heard  the  news?"  said  the  father. 

"Was  he  conscious  when  you  got  there,  father?" 
inquired  M.  dc  Beaucrillon. 

"I  think  lie  was;  I  lioi^e  he  was.     I  questioned  liim. 


JVarlca.  43 

and  made  an  act  of  faitli  and  contrition,  and  he  pressed 
my  hand  very  distinctly,  and  made  convulsive  efforts  to 
speak.  It  was  awful  to  see.  I  pronounced  the  absolu- 
tion over  him  conditionally." 

Basil  gave  a  short,  explosive  laugh,  that  sounded  hor- 
rible in  Gaston's  ears.  Father  Christopher  winced  per- 
ceptibly; he  pulled  his  beretta  forward,  then  pushed  it 
back. 

"Is  any  one  suspected  of  the  murder?"  inquired  Gas- 
ton. 

"They  are  saying  it  was  accidental.  The  forest  has 
been  full  of  men  on  the  lookout  for  the  wolf,  and  they 
think  that  Larchoff  may  have  been  shot  by  one  of  them 
in  mistake." 

"  Is  that  likely?"  asked  M.  de  Beauci-illon. 

"It  is  possible." 

There  was  a  pause.  "  Only  this  morning,"  said  Father 
Christopher,  breaking  it,"  the  unfortunate  man  met  me, 
and  threatened  to  send  me  to  Siberia  for  proselytizing. 
He  had  begun  by  telling  me  of  the  escape  he  had  had  of 
being  killed  by  the  wolf,  riding  home  last  night — how  lie 
had  fired  and  hit  him  just  in  time.  I  didn't  believe  him. 
Perhaps  he  was  speaking  the  truth." 

"If  so,  it  was  the  first  time  it  ever  happened  him,"  said 
Basil. 

"Well,  he  has  gone  before  the  judgment-seat,"  said 
the  father.      "  May  God  have  mercy  on  him  !" 

"Mercy  on  Larchotf !  The  devil  owes  him  some,  for 
he  did  his  work  well." 

Basil's  handsome  features  were  positively  ugly  with 
the  expression  of  hatred  that  passed  over  them.  Father 
Christopher  had  never  seen  such  an  expression  on  his 
face  before.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  Sibyl  had 
more  than  once  expressed  uneasy  suspicions  about  her 


44  JSfarJca. 

brother  having  been  lured  into  associations  of  some  sort 
with  men  who  made  crime  and  vengeance  a  part  of  their 
political  creed.  Father  Christopher  had  never  attached 
much  importance  to  these  fears ;  he  believed  that  Basil 
was  incapable  of  i^ractically  committing  himself  to  such 
dark  theories,  though  he  might,  partly  from  instinctive 
hatred  of  the  cruelties  that  had  provoked  them,  partly 
from  a  spirit  of  opposition,  tallc  as  if  he  sympathized  Avith 
them.  If  the  father  had  been  alone  with  Basil  he  would 
have  challenged  him  then  and  there,  and  insisted  on 
knowing  the  truth;  for  though  his  old  pupil  was  now  a 
man  of  four-and-twenty,  Father  Christopher  still  looked 
upon  him  as  a  boy,  and  spoke  to  him  with  the  frank  bold- 
ness of  a  master. 

"The  village  is  in  a  state  of  great  excitement,"  he 
remarked,  wishing  to  divert  M.  de  Beaucrillon's  atten- 
tion from  Basil's  strange  demeanor;  "there  will  be  lit- 
tle sleep  in  it  to-night." 

"I  will  go  down  and  see  Ivan  Gorff,"  said  Basil. 

"You  won't  find  him,"  said  Father  Christopher;  "  he 
rode  into  X.  this  afternoon,  and  he  had  not  returned  an 
hour  ago;  that  zealous  gossip  Paul  Avent  there  to  tell  of 
the  murder,  and  he  heard  that  Mile.  Sophie  was  ill; 
the  shock  of  the  news  brought  on  a  nervous  attack." 

"No  wonder,"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon.  "My  sister 
fainted  when  she  heard  of  it.  We  left  her  insensible 
when  we  came  away." 

They  wished  Father  Christopher  good-night,  and  went 
back  to  the  castle. 


Narha.  45 


CHAPTER  V. 

Marguerite  was  very  ill  during  the  night.  In  tlie 
morning  she  sent  to  say  she  Avould  not  come  down  to 
breakfast.     Sibyl  went  at  once  to  her  room. 

"My  poor  darling,"  she  said,  laying  her  cool  cheek 
against  Marguerite's  hot  face,  "to  think  of  our  bringing 
you  all  this  way  to  frighten  you  into  illness  with  wolves 
and  murders!" 

Marguerite  answered  with  a  faint  smile,  and  Sibyl, 
seeing  that  the  girl  was  very  nervous,  and  best  left  quiet 
and  alone,  kissed  her  and  came  away,  and  sent  for  the 
doctor. 

Narka  had  gone  out  early  to  see  her  mother,  avIio  was 
sure  to  have  heard  of  the  murder,  and  likely,  in  her 
Aveak  state  of  health,  to  be  seriously  affected  by  the 
shock. 

Mrs.  Larik  was  in  truth  greatly  excited.  "So  God's 
vengeance  has  overtaken  the  man  who  murdered  my 
husband  and  my  boj^ !"  she  exclaimed, her  face  quivering. 
"Ah!  the  Lord  God  swore  to  avenge  the  widow  and  the 
orphan ;  the  Lord  God  has  kept  His  word !" 

"The  vengeance  can't  help  us,  or  give  back  the  dead," 
replied  Narka.  "Don't  rejoice  in  it,  mother;  it  can't 
help  us." 

But  Mrs.  Larik  was  not  magnanimous  enough  to  take 
this  negative  view  of  the  event.  She  was  a  kindly  soul ; 
she  would  not  have  crushed  a  worm;  but  she  was  an 
injui'ed  woman,  made  a  widow  and  sonless  by  Larchoff 
and  his  father,  and  it  was  not  in  human  nature  that 
she  should  not  feel  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  at  this  deed  of 


46  Narka. 

vengeance  wrouglit  upon  the  enemy  who  had  crushed 
the  joy  out  of  her  life. 

Narka  let  her  talk  on  awliile,  but  seeing  that  she  was 
exciting  herself  ovei-much,  she  said,  irrelevantly,  "Mar- 
guerite wanted  to  come  and  see  you  yesterday;  do  you 
think  you  would  be  able  to  see  her  to-day?" 

"No,  no;  not  to-day.  My  pains  are  sure  to  be  very 
bad  to-day.  You  know  they  are  always  worse  when 
my  mind  is  worried." 

"  I  thought  it  might  help  you  to  forget  the  pains  and 
the  worry  a  minute.  She  is  \gxj  merry  and  pleasant, 
and  very  nice  to  me." 

"  In  a  few  days,  when  I  have  got  over  it  a  bit,  but  not 
to-day,  not  to-day.  I  can't  think  how  you  could  ask 
me  such  an  unreasonable  thing,  Narka,  as  to  see  a 
stranger  to-day." 

"Then  I  shall  make  her  wait,  little  mother;  there  is 
no  hurry,"  said  Narka,  soothingly;  and  she  arranged 
the  pillows,  and  fussed  about  the  nervous,  irritable  inva- 
lid, and  talked  of  household  matters,  and  did  what  she 
could  to  cheer  her  and  turn  her  mind  to  practical  inter- 
ests. Narka  was  not  the  same  being  with  her  mother 
and  with  the  rest  of  the  world ;  every  tone,  every  touch, 
was  full  of  deprecating  tenderness;  her  strength  became 
as  the  weakness  of  a  little  cliild  wlven  she  was  nursing 
and  caressing  and  liumoring  the  peevish,  loving,  broken- 
spirited  widow  who  had  only  her  left  to  care  for.  When 
M.  de  Beaucrillon  said  to  Sibyl,  "Your  Narka  is  too 
gi'and  and  cold  for  me;  she  is  not  human  enough;  she 
is  like  a  goddess  made  out  of  marble  and  gold,"  Sibyl 
replied,  "If  you  saw  her  with  her  mother  you  would 
not  say  that." 

They  were  at  breakfast  when  Narka  got  back  to  the 
castle.     She  had  scarcely  sat  down  when  a  servant  came 


JVcirka.  47 

in  to  say  that  Pakol  Pasgoiroiwitch,  the  Stauovors  clerk, 
was  outside,  wanting  to  speak  to  Prince  Basil. 

"Let  the  dog  wait,"  was  Basil's  contemptuous  rei^ly. 
"Does  he  think  I  am  going  to  get  uj)  from  my  breakfast 
to  attend  to  him  ?" 

The  servant  looked  as  if  he  had  something  he  wished 
to  say — something  that  would  explain ;  but  after  a  sec- 
ond's hesitation  he  decided  not  to  say  it,  and  withdrew. 
He  had  hardly  closed  the  door  when  Basil  rose  impul- 
sively and  went  out  after  him.  Pakol  Pasgoiroiwitch 
was  standing  in  the  hall ;  the  door  was  ajar,  and  the 
voices  were  audible  in  the  breakfast-room.  Some  words 
reached  Sibyl  and  Narka  which  made  them  change  color 
and  start.  Before  they  had  time  to  exchange  a  w^ord, 
Basil  flung  the  door  open  and  came  back,  followed  by 
Pakol  Pasgoiroiwitch. 

Basil  looked  at  the  man  as  if  ordering  him  to  speak. 

"The  murderer  has  been  discovered,"  said  Pakol 
Pasgoiroiwitch,  with  a  stolid,  neutral  face,  like  a  mask. 

An  exclamation  of  impatient  curiosity  came  from  the 
two  ladies. 

"Father  Christopher  is  the  man  who  committed  it!'' 

Sibyl  almost  screamed,  and  after  staring  blankly  at  the 
messenger,  dropped  into  her  seat.  Narka  stood  as  if 
turned  to  stone. 

"What  is  it  ?"  inquired  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  curious  and 
impatient. 

Basil  explained.  The  man  went  on  to  deliver  his 
message,  looking  all  the  while  as  unmoved  as  a  Avooden 
figure  might  have  done.  Information  had  reached  the 
authorities  that  morning;  the  father's  gun  was  found 
loaded  in  the  sacristy,  with  one  chamber  empty;  the 
father  had  been  seen  hurrying  from  the  forest  at  the 
time  of  the  murder:  all  this  evidence  was  substantiated. 


48  Narha. 

"  Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  when 
it  liad  been  translated  to  him ;  "but  you  could  not  hang 
a  dog-  on  such  evidence." 

"Not  in  France,"  retorted  Basil;  "but  we  are  in 
Russia,  and  the  Stanovoi  thinks  Father  Christopher  is 
guilty." 

"  He  thinks  nothing  of  the  sort.  It's  his  business  to 
think  everybody  guilty  till  he  finds  out  who  is.  Why 
doesn't  he  suspect  you  and  me?  He  would  find  both 
our  rifles  with  a  couple  of  chambei'S  empty.  Bon  Dieu ! 
The  thing  is  beyond  belief ;  it  is  monstrous." 

"Father  Christopher!"  Sibyl  repeated,  in  a  tone  of 
stupefied  amazement. 

"Have  they  arrested  him  ?"  asked  Narka,  who  had  re- 
mained rooted  to  the  spot  where  she  heard  the  news. 

"Yes;  about  an  hour  ago." 

"You  can  go,"  said  Basil,  with  haughty  abruptness. 

The  man  bowed  to  his  knees,  and  withdrew. 

Everybody  seemed  struck  dumb  for  a  moment  after 
the  door  had  closed.  Then  Basil  exploded  in  a  muttered 
curse,  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"What  motive  can  any  one  have  had  in  getting  up 
such  a  preposterous  story  ?"  asked  M.  de  Beaucrillon. 

"Oh !  the  motive  is  not  far  to  seek,"  said  Sibyl.  "The 
father  is  hated  by  the  Stanovoi,  as  he  was  by  Larchoff ; 
both  have  been  pui*suing  him  unrelentingly  ever  since 
my  mother's  death,  trying  to  entrap  him  into  something 
that  would  give  them  a  hold  upon  him;  they  have  plot- 
ted late  and  early  to  convict  him  of  proselytizing,  of 
being  connected  with  the  revolutionists.  It  was  only 
the  fear  of  my  father's  influence  at  St.  Petersburg  that 
held  them  at  all  in  check,  or  they  would  have  sent  him 
to  Siberia  or  the  gallows  long  since.  The  Stanovoi" 
has  seized  on  Larchoff's  murder  now  to  serve  his  hate 


JVarka.  49 

of  the  futliei",  aud  tliey  will  buy  witnesses  to  sweai*  to  his 
guilt." 

"We  "will  outbid  them;  we  will  do  it  if  it  costs  every 
ruble  in  our  possession  and  every  acre  of  our  land," 
cried  Basil,  coming  up  to  her,  both  his  hands  clinched, 
his  countenance  set. 

"  If  papa  were  at  home !"  exclaimed  Sibyl,  excitedly. 

"  Thank  Heaven  he  is  not !"  retorted  Basil.  "He  will 
serve  us  infinitely  better  at  St.  Petersburg.  I  must  go 
to  him  immediately.  We  will  do  what  is  to  be  done 
there,  and  then  my  father  will  come  home  and  deal  with 
the  business  here." 

"Dear  Basil,  that  is  the  best  plan.  But  meantime 
they  will  have  carried  Father  Christopher  to  prison  at  X. 
Do  you  think  the  Stanovoi  will  let  you  see  him  at  the 
guard-house  before  he  goes  ?  It  would  be  everything  if 
you  could  see  him  and  tell  him  to  be  of  good  cheer." 

"He  is  sure  to  be  that,  whatever  befalls.  I  don't 
think  they  would  let  me  see  him." 

"Oh,  try,  Basil,  try !"  said  Narka,  in  a  tone  of  entreaty 
that  was  full  of  anguish.  "Or  if  I  went?  Perhaps 
they  would  make  less  difficulty  about  letting  me  in?" 

Basil  seemed  pulled  in  different  directions;  but  after 
a  moment's  hesitation  he  said,  "I  will  go  myself,"  and 
went  out  of  the  room. 

"Would  my  going  help?"  asked  M.  de  Beaucrillon, 

"No;  it  would  hinder,  more  likely,"said  Sibyl.  "Oh, 
Nai'ka,"  she  cried,  moving  rapidly  to  and  fro  and  wring- 
ing her  hands,  "if  they  should  find  witnesses  to  swear 
away  his  life  I"     She  burst  into  tears. 

"They  are  sure  to  find  them,"  Narka  replied,  in  a  level 
undertone. 

Sibyl  knew  what  a  strength  of  passionate  feeling  there 
was  beneath  the  tense,  calm  manner,  but  M.  de  Beaucril- 
4 


50  JVarka. 

Ion  did  not,  and  the  girl's  apparent  insensibility  revolted 
liim. 

The  Stanovoi  politel}^  but  positively  refused  to  let 
Basil  see  the  father.  He  was  XDi'ofuse  in  his  expressions 
of  regret  at  not  being  able  to  obey  his  Excellency's  desire, 
but  he  had  himself  received  the  strictest  orders  not  to  let 
any  one  near  the  x^risonei',  w^ho  was  to  be  conveyed  next 
day  to  X. 

"And  who  has  invented  this  precious  lie  against 
him  ?" 

"  Prince,  I  am  here  again  under  orders  of  secrecy,  and 
dare  not  reveal  tlie  names  of  the  witnesses." 

"There are  several,  then  ?  I  should  not  have  thought 
there  was  one  man  in  the  entire  district  who  would  have 
lied  against  Father  Christopher." 

"There  is  not  a  man  in  the  district,  Excellency,  who 
does  not  know  that  Father  Christopher  hated  Count 
Larchoff." 

"  There  is  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  the  district 
who  did  not  hate  Lai'choflP.  If  that  be  a  proof,  you  can 
convict  every  muzhik  on  the  land  of  the  murder." 

"We  can't  convict  tliem  of  a  more  heinous  crime 
still,  that  of  poisoning  the  souls  of  the  Czar's  subjects  by 
drawing  tliem  away  from  the  orthodox  faith,  as  Fathei* 
Christopher  has  been  of  late  years  repeatedly  charged 
with  doing." 

"By  Avhom  was  ho  charged  with  it?  By  Larchoff, 
who  never  could  prove  it  in  a  single  instance." 

"  It  will  be  proved  now." 

"What!  Is  Larchoff  coming  back  from  hell  to  do  it? 
Mind  what  you  are  about.  I  Avarn  you  the  devil  may 
overshoot  his  mark." 

With  this  threat,  emphasized  by  his  uplifted  stick, 
Basil  turned  his  back  on  the  iStanovoi  and  walked  out. 


JVarka.  5 1 

Ivan  Goi'ff  had  seen  him  in  the  distance,  and  was 
waiting'  outside  the  Mayor's  house.    They  clasped  hands. 

"  Tliis  is  a  pretty  business,"  said  Ivan. 

"Whose  doing  can  it  be  ?"  said  Basil,  as  if  questioning 
himself. 

"  You  don't  believe  it  can  have  been  accidental  ?" 

"  I  mean  this  arrest  of  Father  Christopher." 

"The  Stanovoi's,  of  course.  Who  else  had  any  inter- 
est in  getting  him  out  of  the  way?  But  the  Prince  will 
be  too  strong  for  him.  There  is  no  likelihood  of  their 
prevailing  against  the  Prince  ?" 

"There's  always  a  likelihood  of  lies  prevailing." 

They  went  on  some  way  without  further  speech. 
Ivan  saw  that  Basil  was  desperately  alarmed,  and 
though  he  thought  he  overestimated  the  danger  to  Fa- 
ther Christopher,  he  knew  his  friend  too  well  to  say  so, 
at  this  crisis  at  least.  Basil  was  by  nature  and  habit 
masterful  and  impatient  of  opposition;  to  contradict 
him  would  only  serve  to  exasperate  his  imperious  tcm- 
l)cr,  and  provoke  one  of  those  outbui-sts  of  violence 
which  betrayed  the  weak  point  in  his  character,  the  lack 
of  that  strength  which  controls  self,  and  is  the  surest 
test  of  power  in  controlling  others. 

So  Ivan  walked  on,  his  loose,  shuffling  step  keeping 
pace  irregularly  with  the  vigorous  stride  of  his  compan- 
ion. When  they  reached  the  park  gate,  he  stood.  "  I 
won't  go  in  with  you,"  he  said;  "I  have  to  go  on  to 
X.  this  afternoon.     Sophie  is  very  ill." 

"Oh!  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Basil,  cor- 
dially. "  I  hope  it's  only  the  effect  of  the  shock  to  her 
nerves  ?'' 

"The  doctor  says  so;  but  he  says  she  is  on  the  brink 
of  a  nervous  fever.  I  must  take  he«r  for  a  change  as 
soon   as   possible.      I  think   I  shall   carry  her  off  to 


52  Ncirka. 

Odessa  in  a  day  or  two.  We  have  an  old  aunt  there 
who  will  take  care  of  her.  She  wants  to  he  taken  care 
of." 

"She does,"  replied  Basil.  "They  all  do,  those  young 
girls;  they  ought  all  to  have  mothers  to  look  after  them. 
Well,  present  my  best  respects  to  Mademoiselle  Sophie. 
She  may  have  left  before  I  return.  By-the-way,  I  did 
not  tell  you:  I  am  going  to  start  off  to  St.  Petersburg. 
Nobody  must  know ;  I  will  say  I  am  going  to  the  dentist 
at  X.,  and  that  I  may  be  obliged  to  stay  the  night  there. 
This  will  give  me  forty-eight  hours'  start  of  these  blood- 
liounds.  A  good  deal  depends  on  our  being  first  in  the 
field  at  St.  Petersburg.  It  is  a  mercy  my  father  has 
kej)t  his  footing  at  court.  We  have  grumbled  because 
he  squandered  so  much  money  there,  but  now  we  are 
thankful  for  it." 

"Yes,  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good,"  re- 
plied Ivan. 


Nar/i-a. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  doctor  found  Marguerite  alarmingly  feverish ;  she 
seemed  on  the  brink  of  a  serious  illness;  for  some  days 
he  could  not  say  liow  it  would  turn.  Narka  longed  to 
take  possession  of  her,  to  be  quite  alone  with  her.  If 
delirium  came  on,  there  was  the  danger  of  revelations 
which  both  she  and  Mai'guerite  dreaded.  The  conscious- 
ness of  a  secret  between  them — a  terrible  fear,  which,  for 
being  unexpressed,  was  none  the  less  distinctly  under- 
stood by  both — had  suddenly  drawn  the  two  girls  to- 
gether in  a  bond  of  no  common  sympathy,  and  Mar- 
guerite would  have  been  happier  to  feel  herself  in  Narka's 
safe-keeping ;  but  Sibyl  had  at  once  entered  on  the  duties 
of  nurse  as  hers  by  riglit,  and  was  constantly  by  her  bed- 
side. 

Narka  had  not  been  alone  with  Basil  for  a  moment 
since  the  announcement  of  the  murder,  and  she  had  not 
even  seen  him  since  the  news  of  Father  Christopher's 
arrest.  Of  late  her  relationship  with  Basil  had  been 
vindergoing  a  change.  Imperceptibly  the  old  free  un- 
consciousness had  been  slipping  from  her,  and  she  had 
felt  creeping  over  her  that  kind  of  embarrassing  sensi- 
tiveness that  manifests  itself  in  shyness;  she  felt,  or  she 
fancied,  that  her  manner  was  not  the  same — free,  direct, 
and  simple — and  the  dread  that  Basil  should  notice  the 
change  made  her  shrink  from  being  alone  with  him. 
But  Basil  noticed  nothing.  He  was  as  unrestrained  as 
ever  in  his  brotherly  familiarity.  It  had  long  been  his 
habit   to   make   a  confidante — to   a   certain    point — of 


54  NarJca. 

Narka.  He  talked  to  her  more  unreservedly  tlian  to  any- 
one else.  He  could  denounce  things  to  Nai-ka,  he  could 
swear  at  the  Czar,  he  could  complain  of  his  father's 
extravagance  and  absenteeism,  more  freely  to  her  than 
to  Sibyl;  he  had  been  thrown  more  entirely  on  Narka 
for  this  kind  of  sympathy  since  Sibyl's  marriage,  and  lie 
had  been  annoyed  lately  at  the  difficulty  he  found  in 
getting  hold  of  her  for  confidential  talks;  she  seemed 
to  be  always  taken  up  with  Sibyl,  busy  about  some- 
thing; but  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  she  was  fight- 
ing shy  of  him. 

This  morning  Narka  had  been  wanting  to  meet  him ; 
she  dreaded  the  interview,  but  some  force  was  impelling 
her  to  seek  it;  she  felt  that  she  and  Basil  were  in  closer 
affinity  at  this  moment  than  they  had  ever  been  before 
— drawn  into  closer  confidence  than  they  had  ever  been 
in  childhood,  when  every  little  joy  and  sorrow  was  com- 
mon, when  they  bent  over  the  same  lesson,  and  conned 
the  same  story,  and  wandered  together  through  the  forest 
birdnesting ;  whatever  spell  might  come  between  them, 
it  was  to  her  that  Basil  was  looking  now  for  sympathy, 
and  that  silent  understanding  which  was  as  necessary 
to  his  morbid  sensitiveness  as  food  to  his  body.  She 
liad  been  vip  and  down  stairs  a  dozen  times  within  an 
liour,  now  fancying  that  she  heard  his  steps  ringiiig 
across  the  liall,  then  that  she  heard  the  door  of  his  room 
close  or  open ;  her  heart  leaped  every  time  she  thought 
he  was  going  to  appear,  and  sank  again  when  the  hope, 
or  the  dread,  she  could  hardly  say  which,  died  away. 
She  was  crossing  the  broad  landing  at  the  head  of  the 
wide  oaken  stairs  when  Basil  did  finally  appear  in  the 
hall  below,  and,  seeing  her,  turned  from  his  piirpose 
of  entering  the  drawing-room,  and  bounded  up  the  stairs. 

"It  was  just  you  that  I  wanted  to  see,"  he  said. 


Ncirka.  55 

"Come  in  here  a  minute."  He  opened  the  door  of  his 
room,  the  room  lie  was  xileased  to  call  his  study,  and 
Narka  went  in  with  him.  He  closed  the  door,  and  then 
turned  to  her.  "What  is  the  matter  with  Marguerite  ?" 
he  said. 

Narka  could  hardly  believe  her  ears:  the  question 
"was  like  a  glass  of  cold  water  dashed  into  her  face. 

"  The  doctor  says  her  nerves  have  received  a  shock." 

"We  did  not  want  him  to  tell  us  that,"  Basil  retorted, 
impatiently.     "  Does  he  say  it  is  likely  to  be  serious  ?" 

"He  hopes  not;  but  she  must  be  kept  very  quiet. 
Sibyl  is  with  her." 

Basil  turned  brusquely  away  and  walked  to  the  win- 
dow. 

So  this  was  what  was  uppermost  in  Ids  thoughts,  this 
was  his  pai-amount  preoccupation  when  they  were  all 
waiting  with  bated  breath  to  know  the  fate  of  Father 
Christopher,  charged  with  a  crime  that  was  punishable 
by  death  I 

Basil  came  back  as  brusquely  as  he  had  turned  away. 

"Narka,  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  I  am  going  to 
start  at  once  for  St.  Petersbiu'g.  No  one  must  know  it 
except  ourselves.     Ivan  is  the  only  person  I  have  told." 

"Ah!....  Ivan  is  sure  to  be  discreet,"  said  Narka, 
"with  an  imperceptible  note  of  interi'ogation  in  her  voice. 

"Ivan  discreet?  Where  I  am  concerned?  Ivan 
Avould  be  flayed  alive  to  save  me  fi'om  a  toothache.  You 
and  Sibyl  don't  do  Ivan  justice;  he  is  the  best  fellow 
living.     I  wish  you  would  both  try  arid  like  him  better." 

"We  do  like  him,"  said  Narka;  "andl  know  he  is  de- 
voted to  you;  but  when  secrecy  is  such  a  matter  of  life 
and  death  one  dreads  the  very  grass  hearing ....  I  didn't 
mean  to  doubt  his  loyalty.  What  hour  do  you  leave  ? 
Have  vou  ordered  the  britzska  ?" 


56  Nctrka. 

"No.  I  will  make  Vasili  pack  up  what  I  want  to  take 
with,  me,  and  then  order  it."  He  put  out  his  hand  to  the 
bell. 

"Don't  ring,"  said  Narka,  arresting  him;  "I  will 
put  up  your  things." 

The  door  of  his  bedroom  adjoined  his  study,  and 
stood  open;  she  passed  in,  and  proceeded  with  sisterly 
indiscretion  to  open  the  drawers  and  fill  the  travelling 
valise  that  was  always  ready  to  hand  for  these  sudden 
emergencies.  Departures  for  distant  journeys  at  a 
moment's  notice  were  so  common  an  incident  in  Basil's 
practice  that  his  present  expedition  would  probably 
have  excited  no  sui'prise  either  in  the  castle  or  the  vil- 
lage ;  it  was  conscience  that  was  making  a  coward  of  him. 
He  made  no  demur  to  Narka's  offer,  but  went  to  his 
writing-table  and  began  putting  away  and  destroying 
some  letters  and  papers. 

Presently  he  came  into  the  bedroom,  and  standing 
over  Narka,  who  was  on  her  knees  laboring  at  the 
valise,  he  said:  "You  were  down  in  the  village  this 
morning;  what  do  they  say  ?  Do  they  think  it  was  an 
accident  ?" 

"No,  they  don't,"  she  answered,  without  looking  up. 

"Do  they  suspect  who  did  it  ?" 

"I  did  not  hear;  but  if  they  knew,  the  secret  would 
be  safe  with  them." 

"What!  even  if  they  believed  it  to  have  been  deliber- 
ate murder  ?'' 

"They  don't  call  it  murder,  I  imagine.  They  had 
come  to  look  on  Larchoff  as  more  dangerous  than  any 
wild  beast;  his  death  is  no  more  a  murder  to  them  than 
the  killing  of  a  wolf  or  a  man-eating  bear." 

After  a  silence  Basil  said,  "And  you  agree  with  them  ?" 

Narka  did  not  answer  at  once;  she  finished  what  she 


Narka.  51 

was  doing,  and  then  stood  up.  "And  if  I  did  agree 
with  them  ?"  she  said,  her  hlue-Wack  ej'cs  flasliing  with 
the  passion  that  vibrated  in  her  voice — "if  I  did  agree 
with  them  ?  Do  you  expect  me  to  call  down  vengeance 
on  the  man  who  rid  the  world  of  Larchoflf  ?  If  you  do, 
you  expect  more  than  God  in  heaven  expects  of  me." 

Basil  positively  quailed  before  the  strength  of  the  pas- 
sion that  was  making  her  tremble ;  yet  he  could  not  look 
away,  or  even  drop  his  lids:  her  eyes  held  him  with  an 
irresistible  fascination,  and  compelled  his  to  meet  them. 

"You  would  acquit  the  man  who  committed  that 
murder  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  would;  I  do.  It  is  no  murder  in  the  sight  of 
God." 

"  Would  you— can  you  fancy  a  woman  marrying  the 
man  who  did  it  ?"'   Ilis  voice  dropped  almost  to  a  whisper. 

"  If  she  had  loved  him  before,  why  not  ?" 

"You  think  he  might  marry  her,  then,  without  con- 
fessing he  had  done  it  ?" 

"That  would  be  harder  to  forgive,  but  if  he  loved  her 
he  would  trust  her  love,  and  not  fear  to  tell  her  the  truth 
beforehand."  Her  voice  had  grown  tremulous  and  soft 
as  a  caress. 

Both  were  silent.  Thei'e  was  a  troubled  consciousness 
in  his  eyes ;  in  hers  a  wistful  questioning.  Basil  was  go- 
ing to  speak,  but  he  checked  himself  and  turned  away. 
A  few  minutes  later  he  was  on  the  road  to  X. 

Narka  contrived  to  get  possession  of  Marguerite  next 
day.  She  owed  this  as  much  to  M.  de  Beaucrillon  as 
to  her  own  manoeuvring.  He  was  bored  to  such  an 
extent  that  it  took  all  Sibyl's  tact  and  ability  to  keep  him 
quiet.  She  was  almost  sorry  that  Marguerite  was  not 
ill  enough  to  frighten  him  a  little.  Tliis  would  have 
been  a  stimulant,  and  kept  him  at  least  from  yawning 


58  Narha. 

all  (lay  long.  But  unfortunately  for  Sibyl  he  slirewdly 
suspected,  what  the  doctor  had  said,  that  the  best  thing 
for  Marguerite  would  be  to  carry  her  back  at  once  to 
France.  Poor  Sibyl,  with  her  hands  full,  had  no  time  to 
spare  in  diverting  him,  but  she  contrived  to  make  her 
many  occupations  help  a  little  in  that  direction.  Tliere 
were  scores  of  letters  to  be  Avritten,  invited  guests  had 
to  be  put  off,  and  all  the  preparations  for  the  intended 
festivities  to  be  countemnanded,  not  temporarily,  as  she 
liad  thought  when  the  murdei*  had  thrown  a  bombshell 
into  the  gay  programme,  but  definitely.  She  begged 
Gaston  to  help  her  whenever  French  would  do  instead 
of  Russian,  and  he  was  too  well  bred  not  to  oblige  a  lady, 
though  she  was  his  wife.  But  these  little  services  were 
as  pebbles  thrown  into  the  water:  they  stirred  its  sur- 
face for  a  moment,  but  the  ripples  passed  away,  and 
left  it  as  dead  a  calm  as  before. 

"Ma  chere  amie,"  he  protested,  "tlie  dulness  of 
your  native  land  is  sublime.  In  no  other  country 
under  heaven  do  people  yawn  as  they  do  in  Russia. 
The  ennui  is  beyond  any  name  in  any  language.  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  being  chloroformed." 

"Dear!  oh  dear!  what  an  unreasonable  being  a  man 
is!"  Sibyl  replied,  with  a  sigh  of  despair.  "In  three 
Aveeks  you  have  had  a  wolf  come  down  and  howl  for 
you,  then  a  murder,  and  you  complain  of  being  chloro- 
formed !" 

"These  shocks  wake  one  up  with  a  start,  but  they 
don't  keep  one  awake.  There  is  absolutely  nothing  to 
do.  If  tliere  were  even  a  neighbor  with  a  pretty  wife  to 
make  love  to,  that  Avould  be  wrong  ?  Well,  at  any  rate, 
it  would  be  amusing;  but  I  can't  even  try  to  make  you 
jealous.     Seigneur  Dieu !  what  a  country !" 

Sibyl  admitted  it  was  a  hard  case,  but  she  appealed  to 


Narka.  59 

his  generosity,  liis  kindness,  to  all  liis  virtues  in  turn, 
and  adjured  him  to  be  patient. 

''I  wish  Basil  had  thought  of  taking  Gaston  witli 
him,"  she  said  to  Narka  the  tliird  morning  after  her 
brother's  departure.  "It  would  have  amused  him  to 
see  St.  Petersburg,  and  what  a  relief  it  would  have  been 
to  vis !'' 

"  I  should  not  care  to  give  M.  de  Beaucrillon  such  an 
opportunity  of  comparing  our  criminal  law  with  that 
of  his  own  country,"  said  Narka;  "but  now  that  you 
ai'e  a  French  woman  you  are  not  so  sensitive  in  that  re- 
spect as  when  you  were  a  Russian." 

"I  wisli,  Narka,  you  would  call  Gaston  by  his  Chris- 
tian name,"  said  Sibyl,  with  clever  irrelevance;  "it 
sounds  ridiculous  to  hear  you  saying  'Monsieur  deBeau- 
crillon.'  If  you  had  a  husband  I  should  call  him  by  his 
name,  and  expect  him  to  call  me  by  mine." 

Narka's  face  beamed  with  one  of  her  rare  beautiful 
smiles.  She  looked  at  Sibyl  with  a  glance  of  adoring 
admiralion. 

"Yes,"  continued  Sibyl,  with  a  pretty  pout,  "you  are 
a  disappointment  to  me,  both  of  you — a  most  unsatisfac- 
tory pair  of  brother  and  sister." 

The  grace  of  the  reproach  was  one  of  those  delicate 
touches  with  which  Sibyl  was  continually  thrilling  Nar- 
ka's tenderness  to  the  heart.  Yet  these  touches  in  some 
indescribable  way  brought  home  to  her,  as  no  external 
conditions  of  rank  could  do,  the  wide  gulf  which  the  ac- 
cident of  birth  and  race  had  sunk  between  tliem,  and 
which  Sibyl,  with  instinctive  delicacy,  bridged  over,  al- 
ways seeming  unconscious  of  any  social  difference  be- 
tween herself  and  her  low-born  sistei*. 

During  these  days  of  dreary  ennui  to  Gaston  and 
bi-eathless  anxiety  to  the  other  members  of  the  family, 


60  NarJca. 

Narka  was  on  the  watcli  to  avoid  being  alone  with  Sibyl. 
Her  own  constant  attendance  on  Marguerite  and 
Sibyl's  multitude  of  occupations  made  this  compara- 
tively easy,  but  occasionally  they  were  thi'own  together 
en  tete-a-tete  for  a  little  while,  and  then,  let  Narka  do 
what  she  would,  the  conversation  fell  on  the  murder. 

Sibyl  would  not  admit  for  a  moment  that  the  crime 
could  be  fastened  on  Father  Christopher. 

"I  wonder  what  Ivan  Gorff  thinks  about  it?"  she  said 
one  morning  when  M.  de  Beaucrillon  had  left  the  break- 
fast table.  "He  ought  to  be  back  now.  I  wonder  how 
Sophie  is  ?  I  am  sorry  he  carried  her  off  in  such  a 
hurry,  without  letting  us  know  she  was  so  ill.  I  should 
have  liked  to  see  her;  but  I  fancy  they  have  been  both  a 
little  shy  with  us  all  here  since  that  kind  of  overture  of 
my  father's  about  Sophie  which  Basil  did  not  follow  up. 
It  was  a  mistake  his  speaking  so  soon.  Not  that  I  think 
there  was  really  much  likelihood  of  Basil  ever  making 
up  his  mind  to  ask  Sophie.  What  a  mercy  my  father  is 
on  the  spot  to  work  against  the  peoi)le  here !  We  shall 
never  complain  again  of  his  being  such  an  absentee. 
It  is  everything  now  liis  being  well  at  court." 

"Yes;  if  that  obtains  justice  for  Father  Christopher, 
we  need  never  complain,"  assented  Narka;  "but,  Sibyl, 
what  a  heinous  thing  it  is  that  the  life  of  an  innocent 
man  should  hang  on  such  a  chance !" 

"  It  is  never  a  cliance  when  we  can  reach  the  Emperor," 
Sibyl  replied ;  "that  is  tlie  happiness  of  being  under  one 
whose  authoi'ity  is  supreme;  there  is  no  twisting  of  the 
law,  no  plotting  or  bribing,  tliat  can  overrule  his  will." 

"But  if  one  can't  reach  him  in  time,  there  is  no 
redress  against  the  plotting  and  the  bribing." 

Sibyl  remembered  how  bitterly  Narka  had  learned  tliis 
evil  side  of  the  Emperor's  i>aternal  government,  and  re- 


JViO'ka.  G 1 

grctted  her  iucousiderate  remark.  M.  de  Beaucrillon's 
entrance  "was  opportune  to  them  both.  Narka  left  him 
to  Sibyl,  and  went  up  to  Marguerite.  The  feverish  symjj- 
toms  had  entirely  disappeared,  but  bright  little  Margue- 
rite was  as  weak  as  a  child,  and  looked  more  wan  and 
worn  than  so  short  an  illness  seemed  to  justify.  The 
few  days'  suffering  had  beautified  her,  as  such  accidents 
are  apt  to  do  in  early  youth ;  her  complexion  was  as  clear 
as  wax,  and  her  brown  eyes  had  borrowed  a  soft  lustre 
that  was  more  fascinating  in  its  way  than  their  usual 
saucy  brightness.  Poor  child !  no  wonder  the  brightness 
was  veiled !  those  innocent  eyes  had  been  gazing  through 
wide-open  summer  windoAvs  at  the  joyous  pageant  of 
life,  and  lo!  there  suddenly  passed  before  her  a  spectacle 
of  horror,  a  vision  of  sin  and  murder.  Narka  continued 
to  devote  herself  to  Marguerite,  though  there  was  now 
no  necessitj^  for  constant  attendance.  No  confidences 
had  passed  between  them,  but  she  felt  that  Marguerite 
was  clinging  to  her  as  the  sinking  man  clings  to  the 
swimmer. 

"Sibyl  was  saying  she  thought  you  might  venture 
on  a  little  drive  to-da}-,  dear  ?''  remarked  Narka. 

"Oh  no;  I  don't  feel  up  to  it,"  Marguerite  replied; 
"my  head  swims  still  when  I  Avalk  across  the  room; 
to-morrow  perhaps  I  shall  feel  inclined,  but  not  to-day." 

Narka  stood  looking  down  at  the  small  figure  reclining 
on  the  couch;  it  looked  half  as  small  again,  swallowed 
up  under  an  enormous  fur  rug. 

"I  will  let  you  have  your  way  about  it  this  once 
more,"  she  said;  "but  it  is  the  last  time.  To-morrow, 
if  you  won't  come  of  your  own  sweet  will,  I  will  get 
M.  de  Beaucrillon  to  carr^^  you.  You  will  never  get  a 
bit  of  strength,  or  a  patch  of  color  into  your  cheeks,  until 
you  get  some  fresh  air." 


62  Mirka. 

"Tlie  color  will  come  back  soon  enough,  don't  be 
afraid,"  Marguerite  said,  with  a  little  pretence  at  merri- 
ment.     "Are  you  going  to  drive  ?" 

"No;  I  am  going  to  walk;  I  am  going  down  to  my 
mother  for  an  hour." 

"Tliat  dear  Tante  Nathalie;  when  shall  I  see  her?" 
said  Marguerite,  taking  Narka's  hand  that  hung  down  by 
her  side.  "How  good  it  is  of  her  to  spare  you  to  us 
so  long!  You  have  been  nursing  me  when  you  ought 
to  have  been  with  her.     How  she  must  miss  you  !" 

"Dear  mother"  —  Narka's  eyes  grew  tender  in  an 
instant — "  but  she  is  glad  to  let  me  be  with  Sibyl." 

"You  do  love  Sibyl." 

"Yes,  I  do  love  Sibyl,"  Narka  answered,  with  hearty 
emphasis. 

Marguerite  felt  at  that  moment  that  she  loved  Narka. 
Something  in  the  expression  of  her  uplifted  face,  per- 
haps, expressed  this  avowal,  for  Narka  bent  down  and 
kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 

At  the  park  gate  Narka  met  Ivan  Gorff.  "  I  thought 
you  were  gone  to  Odessa?"  she  said,  in  surprise. 

"I  have  come  back  on  purpose  to  see  you.  I  have 
something  of  importance  to  tell  you." 

"Ah!  about  the  father?" 

"No;  about  Basil.  He  must  escape  across  the  fron- 
tier as  quickly  as  possible." 

Narka  stood,  partly  from  sheer  inability  to  go  on 
walking,  and  partly  that  she  might  look  at  Ivan,  and 
read  in  his  face  what  she  had  not  the  coui-age  to  ask. 

Ivan  stood  also,  but  he  only  repeated:  "He  must 
escape  at  once.  I  have  sent  a  messenger  on  the  chance 
of  meeting  him  at  St.  Petersburg,  but  I  expect  he  is  on 
liis  way  home  by  tliis,  and  the  messenger  will  miss  him. 
Perhaps  it  is  as  well ;  there  will  be  less  hurry  in  arresting 


JSfarka.  63 

liim  here.     They  will  have  to  be  cautious,  and  catch 
him  quietly." 

"What  has  happened  V  Narka  said,  when  she  had  re- 
covered her  self-command  sufficiently  to  speak  and  walk 
on. 

"Something  has  been  found  amongst  Lai'choff's  jia- 
pers  that  compromises  him;  he  is  denounced  as  impli- 
cated in  a  plot  to  assassinate  the  Emperor." 

Narka  uttered  something  inarticulate.  "I  must  not 
ask  how  you  came  by  this  knowledge  V  she  said. 

"You  may  ask,  but  I  may  not  tell,"  he  replied,  curtly. 

"  The  warrant  is  not  yet  here  for  his  arrest  ?" 

"No;  but  it  will  probably  be  here  to-night.  When 
do  you  expect  Basil  ?" 

"At  any  moment.  He  has  not  announced  the  day, 
but  I  have  an  idea  he  will  be  back  to-morrow." 

Tliey  went  on  a  little  without  speaking.  Then  Narka 
said:  "  And  Father  Christopher  ?  Have  you  heard  any- 
thing ?  Is  there  any  chance  of  Basil  bringing  back  the 
order  for  his  release  ?" 

Ivan  was  shuffling  on  Avith  his  hands  thrust  deep  into 
the  pockets  of  his  furred  overcoat.  At  this  question  of 
Narka's  he  lifted  his  head,  held  it  skyward  a  moment,  and 
then  dropped  it  heavily  on  his  breast;  the  gesture  ex- 
pressed absolute  hopelessness. 

"Yet  the  Prince  has  great  influence?  Sibyl  seems 
certain  he  will  prevail." 

But  Ivan  remained  stolidly  unresponsive,  while  a  look 
as  of  impatient  contempt  crossed  liis  face. 

"Oh,  surely  something  may  be  done!"  Narka  cried. 
"Is  there  nothing  to  be  attempted  here?  Would  not 
the  people  come  with  us  in  a  body  to  X.,  and  petition 
the  Isprawnic  ?  Sibyl  would  come  at  our  head.  Or 
pci'liaps  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  as  a  foreigner,  might  have 


04  JVcD'ka. 

a  chance  of  being  lieard  if  lie  interfered.  To  think 
that  we  should  stand  by  and  not  lift  a  finger  to  rescue 
the  dear  old  father  is  too  horrible !" 

Ivan  walked  on,  his  eyes  still  staring  before  him.  At 
last  he  said,  "There  is  only  one  thing  that  could  be  of 
the  least  use — if  we  could  find  the  man  who  committed 
the  murder,  and  give  him  up  to  justice." 

Narka  felt  as  if  some  one  had  clutched  her  by  the 
throat.  Tlie  ground  seemed  to  be  moving  under  her  feet. 
She  kept  walking  on  as  if  urged  by  some  mechanical 
force.  For  her  life  she  could  not  have  stopped  ;  if  slie 
had  stopped,  she  must  have  screamed.  Neither  of  them 
spoke  another  word  until  they  came  to  a  point  where 
the  roads  crossed.  Then  Narka  said,  "I  am  going  this 
way." 

Ivan  took  the  remark  for  a  dismissal,  and  without 
further  ceremony  parted  from  her,  going  on  to  the  vil- 
lage, w^hile  she  took  the  road  to  X. 


Narka.  65 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Narka  was  no  longei*  in  a  mood  to  go  to  her  mother 
after  this.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  keep  the 
absolute  secrecy  that  was  necessary ;  she  could  command 
the  silence  of  her  tongue — that  was  always  easy  to  her — 
but  she  could  not  insure  the  silence  of  her  face,  nor  pre- 
vent the  keen  ej'es  of  the  mother  from  reading-  on  its 
troubled  features  the  fact  that  something  was  agitating 
lier.  Many  a  time  within  the  last  few  days  Narka  had 
felt  thankful  that  she  was  staying  at  the  castle,  and 
that  Marguerite's  illness  gave  her  a  plausible  excuse  for 
not  going  home  to  be  with  Madame  Larik  during  her  lit- 
tle attack  of  rheumatism.  It  would  have  been  almost 
beyond  her  powers  of  self-control  to  sit  all  day  Avith  a 
calm  countenance,  cheering  up  her  mother,  reassuring 
her  perpetual  apprehensions,  answering  her  endless  con- 
jectures, contradicting  her  prophecies,  and  belying  in 
words  the  terrors  that  filled  her  own  heart.  It  would 
often  have  been  a  relief  at  this  moment — an  unspeakable 
relief— if  she  could  have  spoken  out  to  anybody,  to  an 
idiot,  to  a  dumb  dog,  to  any  living  thing;  it  would  have 
been  a  relief  if  she  could  have  shrieked  out  to  the  trees; 
but  she  might  not  indulge  even  in  this  solace;  there 
were  peasants  about  in  the  fields ;  they  Avould  hear  her, 
and  think  she  had  gone  suddenly  mad. 

She  walked  on  at  a  quick  pace,  and  had  gone  some  way 
on  the  road,  when  there  broke  on  the  stillness  the  sound 
of  bells  tinkling  in  the  distance.  Narka  stood  still  and 
listened  till  she  heard  them  nearing  distinctlv.     Could 


66  JVarka. 

it  be  Basil  returning  ?  She  held  her  breath  in  expecta- 
tion; but  the  suspense  did  not  last  long.  There  came 
quickly  in  sight  a  britzska,  in  which  she  recognized  the 
Prince's  notary,  M.  Perrow.  He  pulled  up  the  moment 
he  saw  her,  and  jumping  out,  adv^anced  with  a  low  bow. 
The  bow  was  so  low  that  it  set  Narka  wondering. 

"This  is  a  lucky  chance  for  me,  mademoiselle,"  said 
the  notary,  again  bowing.  "I  came  in  to  seek  the 
honor  of  an  interview  with  you.  May  I  join  you  now, 
or  shall  I  accompany  you  to  Madame  Larik's  house  ?" 

"My  mother  is  not  very  well;  I  pi'efer  to  talk  with 
you  here,"  replied  Narka,  her  surprise  increasing  to 
amazement. 

"It  is  not  often  one  has  the  good  fortune  to  be  the 
bearer  of  good  news,"  began  M.  Perrow,  facetiously, 
"and  I  congratulate  my.self  on  being  so  privileged." 

"  Good  news !  Oh,  thank  God !"  cried  Narka;  "  he  is 
out  ?  he  is  free  ?" 

"Excuse  me:  my  news  has  nothing  to  do  with  that 
sad  business.  I  come  to  announce  the  death  of  your 
mother's  respected  relative  Dr.  Schwartzel,  and  to  in- 
form you  that  he  has  bequeathed  to  you,  to  you  i)ersonal- 
ly  and  solely,  a  legacy  of  fifty  thousand  rubles.  The 
money  has  been  paid  into  our  hands." 

Narka  said  "Oh!"  and  walked  on. 

"We  are  so  full  of  this  dreadful  business,"  she  ob- 
served, presently,  "  that  it  seems  as  if  nothing  important 
could  happen  except  in  connection  with  it." 

"That's  natural.  Still,  life  goes  on,  and  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  inherit.  The  money  was  paid  in  only  this 
morning  by  the  banker  of  the  late  Dr.  Schwartzel:  you 
see,  I  have  lost  no  time  in  letting  you  know." 

"I  thank  you." 

"It  is  desirable  that  the  money  should  be  invested 


Narha.  67 

without  delay.  The  sooner  it  is  placed,  the  soonei-  it  will 
bring  in  interest.  I  wait  your  orders  on  this  head." 
And  he  forthwith  launched  into  a  statement  of  the 
various  kinds  of  stock,  home  and  foreign,  that  he  ven- 
tured to  recommend  as  safe  and  profitable. 

Narka  let  him  run  on,  but  she  hardly  heard  what  he 
Avas  saying;  she  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  enter  on 
the  subject  of  railways  that  paid  high  w^ith  risk,  and 
government  bonds  that  paid  low  without  risk.  She 
requested  M.  Perrow  to  let  the  money  remain  in  his  safe 
for  a  few  days,  until  she  should  have  considered  the 
matter  and  taken  advice,  when  she  would  communicate 
with  him  The  notary  was  a  trifle  disappointed,  but  he 
felt  that  Mademoiselle  Narlca  Larik  was  a  person  who 
knew  how  to  assume  at  once  the  new  position  in  which 
her  suddenly  acquired  fortune  placed  her,  and  this  in- 
spired him  with  additional  respect  for  her.  He  took  his 
dismissal  with  politeness,  got  into  his  britzska,  and  drove 
away. 

Narka  watched  the  britzska  out  of  sight,  and  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  its  coming  and  going  had  been  a  dream.  A 
week  ago  this  legacy  would  have  been  the  realization 
of  the  cherished  dream  of  her  life;  it  would  have  repre- 
sented the  fulfilment  of  all  that  her  poor  mother  had 
longed  for — independence  for  her  child,  and  comfort  and 
ease  for  them  both.  They  had  wanted  for  nothing, 
thanks  to  Prince  Zorokoff's  generosity  and  Sibyl's  lov- 
ing-kindness, but  both  mother  and  daughter  had  a  spirit 
that  chafed  under  the  burden  of  such  obligations,  and 
to  be  free  from  these,  to  be  independent  of  pecuniary 
help,  was  their  greatest  desire.  Then  Narka  longed 
to  take  her  mother  to  those  healing  springs  in  her  native 
Germany,  and  after  that  to  travel  and  see  some  of  the 
"beautiful  places  that  Basil  told  her  about,  and  that  her 


G8  JVcirka. 

own  imagination  had  x>ictured  to  lier  out  of  books.  The 
tragedy  of  her  father's  and  her  bi'other's  death  had  fallen 
like  a  deadly  blight  on  her  youth,  and  crushed  the  nat- 
ural desire  of  her  age  for  amusement.  She  had  never 
shared  the  common  delight  of  girlhood  in  innocent  gay- 
ety  and  dress  and  dancing;  those  springs  were  broken  ; 
but  perhaps  on  that  very  account  her  desire  for  other 
enjoyments  had  developed  more  strongly.  She  longed 
to  escape  from  the  scenes  of  her  life's  great  sorrow,  as 
if  this  flight  of  the  body  must  in  some  degree  carry  her 
spirit  away  from  its  pain;  while  the  intellectual  hunger 
of  a  healthy  mind  incited  her  curiosity  to  visit  new 
places  and  see  new  phases  of  life.  Tbe  long  Avinter 
evenings  had  many  and  many  a  time  been  shortened  to 
herself  and  her  mother  by  dreams  and  plans  that  were 
to  be  carried  out  when  old  Cousin  Schwartzel  died  and 
left  them  the  independence  he  had  promised  on  hearing 
of  Larik's  exile  and  their  consequent  destitution.  And 
now  the  promise  had  been  fulfilled,  the  fairy  had  come 
to  their  door  with  the  purse  and  the  seven-leagued  boots, 
and  Narka  could  not  even  feel  glad.  If  the  money  could 
serve  to  rescue  Father  Christopher  and  get  Basil  safe 
out  of  Russia,  how  joyfully  would  she  have  j)aid  it  away, 
and  renounced  her  day-dreams  forever ! 

She  liad  walked  a  long  way — so  long,  that  even  her 
clastic  young  limbs  recalled  her  to  the  fact  that  they  had 
to  carry  her  back.  She  made  up  her  mind  not  to  an- 
nounce the  news  to  Madame  Larik  to-day.  She  was  not 
sufficiently  mistress  of  herself  to  play  the  rejoicing 
part  that  would  be  exi^ected  of  her;  moreover,  in  her 
mother's  weak  condition  of  health,  another  sudden  shock, 
even  a  j>leasant  one,  might  be  hurtful;  and  there  was  no 
hurry;  the  good  news  would  be  as  good  to-morrow. 
She  was  debating  whether  she  would  go  in  to  her  mother 


Narka.  09 

now  or  come  down  later  iu  tlie  afternoon,  when  the 
sight  of  Sibyl's  pony-carriage  at  the  cottage  gate  settled 
the  question,  and  she  went  in. 

Iu  Narka's  eyes  there  was  no  lovelier  thing  in  nature 
than  the  picture  of  Sibyl  with  Tante  Nathalie,  as  Madame 
Larik  was  called  in  the  family.  When  she  entered  the 
room  now  the  young  Princes-s  was  administei-ing  to  the 
widow  some  little  dainty  that  she  had  brought  from  tiie 
castle,  and  insisted  on  making  her  eat.  Madame  Larik 
yielded  under  protest,  querulously  declaring  between  ev- 
ery spoonful  that  she  had  no  appetite,  and  that  there  was 
no  reason  why  she  should  force  herself  to  eat,  or  to  live 
at  all,  Sibyl  petted  her  as  if  she  had  been  a  child ;  her 
manner  was  as  full  of  gentle  deference  toward  the  pee- 
vish, forlorn  widow  as  if  she  had  been  a  Czarina. 
Madame  Larik  had  been  pretty  in  her  youth,  with  that 
soft  round  German  comeliness  that  Avears  better  than 
more  regular  beauty;  she  was  a  soft,  fair,  fat,  round  lit- 
tle woman,  with  nothing  to  remind  you  of  Narka's 
grand  lines  or  delicate  splendor  of  coloring;  but  there 
was  no  lack  of  intelligence  in  her  features,  and  the  maj- 
esty of  a  great  sorrow  had  set  its  seal  upon  her. 

"Tante  Nathalie  is  a  great  deal  better  to-day,"  said 
Sibyl,  when  Narka  came  in.  "She  won't  own  it;  but 
that  is  sheer  perversity,  I  tell  her.  Now,  ma  tante, 
you  must  let  me  put  you  lying  down, "  she  continued,  see- 
ing that  Madame  Larik  had  eaten  the  last  spoonful  of 
her  little  dainty  meal. 

"I  am  well  enough  sitting  so,  my  dear,"  said  the 
widow. 

But  Sibyl  insisted.  She  had  a  notion  that  to  make 
people  lie  down  must  be  good  for  them. 

Madame  Larik  gave  in,  as  she  always  did  with  Prin- 
cess Sibyl. 


10  Warka. 

"We  must  get  her  out  for  a  drive  to-morrow,"  said 
Sibyl,  fussing  fondly  about  her,  and  putting  a  quilted 
silk  eider-down — her  own  gift — over  Tante  Nathalie's 
feet. 

"  No,  no,"  protested  Madame  Larik,  shaking  her  head. 
"No  driving  about  for  me  while  Father  Christopher  is 
in  prison.     Wait  till  he  is  out." 

"Your  moping  and  worrying  w^on't  help  him  to  get 
out,"  said  Sibyl. 

"  That  is  what  I  tell  her,"  said  Narka,  standing  at  the 
end  of  the  sofa. 

"Why  does  not  Basil  write?  It  is  a  bad  sign  that 
he  does  not  write,"  said  Madame  Larik.  "  It  must  mean 
bad  news." 

"It  means  more  likely  no  news,"  said  Sibyl.  "But 
in  any  case  he  would  not  have  trusted  the  news  to  the 
post;  he  said  so." 

"  If  he  had  good  news  he  would  have  managed  to  send 
it  somehoAV,"  per.sisted  Madame  Larik,  in  her  little  soft, 
obstinate  way,  shaking  her  head.  "  Good  news  is  sure 
to  come." 

"I  thought  it  was  bad  news  that  always  travelled 
fast,"  Sibyl  said,  laughing  at  her.  "Why  will  you 
croak  so,  Tante  Nathalie?" 

She  took  a  vase  off  the  table,  and  began  to  arrange 
some  hot-house  flowers  in  it,  talking  in  her  i)leasant, 
sympathetic  way  all  the  time.  Then  she  said  she  must 
be  going,  and  Narka  had  better  come  with  her.  Narka 
made  no  difficulty.  She  was  thankful  to  escape  the 
strain  of  a  tete-a-tete,  with  her  mother. 


JVcfrka. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  tlie  afternoon  of  the 
sixth  day  after  Basil's  departure;  the  lamps  had  just 
been  lighted ;  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  Sibyl,  and  Narka  were  in 
the  drawing-room.  Suddenly  a  loud  barking  of  the  dogs 
announced  some  arrival,  and  before  there  was  time  to 
conjecture  who  it  might  be,  the  door  opened,  and  Basil 
walked  in.  Sibyl  ran  to  embrace  him,  and  the  others 
greeted  him  with  glad  eagerness.  After  the  excitement 
of  the  meeting  was  over,  Sibyl  said: 

""And  Father  Christopher  ?     Have  you  succeeded  V 

"Yes;  the  warrant  for  his  I'elease  was  signed  the  day 
I  left." 

An  exclamation  of  deep  thankfulness  came  from  all. 

"Did  you  see  him  on  your  way  through  X.?"  asked 
Sibyl. 

"  I  did.  But  don't  let  us  begin  to  talk  about  that  yet," 
he  said,  letting  himself  fall  into  a  chair.  "  I'm  too  dead 
beat." 

The  ligbt  fell  full  on  his  face,  and  they  were  all  struck 
by  its  haggard  expression.  The  air  of  utter  exhaustion 
he  wore  was  scarcely  to  be  accounted  for,  at  his  age,  by 
a  hurried  journey  to  and  from  St.  Petersburg. 

Sibyl  bent  over  him,  and  kissed  his  forehead. 

"You  must  want  some  food,  dear  Basil,"  she  said. 
"What  shall  I  order ?     Tea ?" 

"Nonsense— tea!"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon.  "Give 
liim  some  strong  bouillon  and  a  bottle  of  good  old  Bor- 
deaux." 


12  Narha. 

"That  would  suit  my  condition  better,"  said  Basil, 
"though  a  cup  of  tea  would  not  be  amiss  either,  if  it 
were  ready." 

"It  will  be  ready  in  a  moment,"  said  Sibyl.  "Ring 
the  bell,  Gaston."  Then,  as  if  too  impatient  to  wait  for 
the  summons  to  be  answered,  she  w^ent  quickly  out  of 
the  room  herself. 

Beyond  a  mutual  gi-eeting  when  they  clasped  hands, 
Basil  and  Narka  had  not  exchanged  a  word,  and  yet  each 
was  conscious  of  being  intently  observa!nt  of  the  other. 

"How  is  Marguerite?"  Basil  inquired,  suddenly. 

"Oh,  she  is  nearly  all  right,"  replied  M.  de  Beau- 
crillon. 

' '  I  will  go  and  tell  the  good  news, "  said  Narka.  "She 
will  be  overjoyed." 

"  Why  should  I  not  go  and  take  it  to  her  ?  I  want  to 
see  how  she  is,"  said  Basil.  He  stood  up,  but  it  seemed 
an  effort  to  him.  He  looked  like  a  man  utterly  spent 
with  fatigue. 

"Mon  cher,''  said  his  brother-in-law,  "take  my  ad- 
vice and  go  up  to  your  own  room  and  take  a  bath.  That 
will  refresh  you  moi'e  than  anything,  to  begin  with." 

"M.  de  Beaucrillon  is  right,"  said  Narka;  "you  will 
have  a  better  appetite  too,  when  you  are  rested  a  bit." 
She  said  this  to  give  Basil  the  chance  of  getting  away 
and  being  alone  with  her  for  a  moment.  She  had  a 
terrible  piece  of  news  to  communicate  to  him,  and  the 
sight  of  his  weariness,  which  seemed  as  much  mental  as 
physical,  pained  her  to  the  heart,  and  made  what  she 
had  to  say  harder  even  than  she  had  expected. 

Basil  consented  to  take  his  brother-in-law's  advice, 
and  followed  Narka  leisurely  out  of  the  drawing-room. 
She  was  on  the  landing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  when  he 
made  a  sign  that  he  wanted  to  speak  to  her. 


Narka.  T-*^ 

They  both  entered  the  study  together.  Basil  went 
sti*aight  to  his  desk,  unlocked  it,  and  took  out  a  bundle  of 
letters. 

"I  want  you  to  keep  tliese  for  me,"  he  said;  "but  I 
won't  give  them  to  you  unless  you  are  certain  tliat  you 
can  secrete  them  beyond  any  chance  of  discovery." 

"  You  may  give  them  to  me,"  Narka  replied.  And  he 
gave  them  to  her. 

Nothing  more  was  said :  they  knew  that  one  was  offer- 
ing and  the  other  accepting  a  trnst  which  involved  ter- 
rible possibilities  to  both. 

"And  now  I  have  something  else  to  tell  you,"  Basil 
said.  "They  have  trapjied  me ;  a  wai-rant  is  out  for  my 
arrest." 

"Ah!  you  know!"  Narka  exclaimed,  almost  relieved 
at  not  having  to  break  the  news  to  him.  "Ivan  told 
me;  but  they  have  not  caught  you  yet.  There  is  time 
to  escape." 

"  Escape  is  out  of  the  question.  The  house  is  watch- 
ed, and  I  have  been  followed  all  the  way  from  X.  I 
met  the  Stanovoi  there,  and  he  announced  the  good 
news  to  me." 

"//e  told  you  about  it?  Then  he  offered  j'ou  some 
alternative,  some  chance  of  escape  V 

"He  did;  but  I  can't  take  advantage  of  it;  I  haven't 
got  the  money.  Every  available  ruble  has  been  raised 
for  Father  Christopher's  ransom.  I  called  at  Ivan's  on 
my  way  here;  but  he  is  absent.  That  was  my  one 
chance,  and  I  have  missed  it." 

"What  is  the  sum  ?"  Narka  said,  a  sudden  hope  mak- 
ing her  heart  leap. 

"Fifty  thousand  rubles.  And  to  be  paid  by  nine 
o'clock  to-night." 

"Basil,  I  have  got  the  money.     Listen!"     Her  face 


14:  JVarka. 

was  flushed;  her  great  eyes  slione;  her  voice  trembled 
with  the  lialpitatiiig  joy  that  filled  her  as  she  hurriedly 
told  him  about  the  legacy.  And  now  she  had  only  to 
go  into  X.  and  fetch  it.  "Oh,  what  a  blessed  mercy 
that  it  came  just  in  time!  I  will  ride  in  at  once;  it  is 
now  half  past  four;  a  good  horse  will  take  me  there  and 
back  in  two  hours  and  a  half.  There  will  be  no  delay; 
I  will  be  here  again  by  seven  o'clock — in  time  for  dinner. 
No  one  need  know  I  have  been  absent.  It  will  be  quite 
easy;  there  is  plenty  of  time." 

She  was  turning  away  in  a  tremor  of  excitement  when 
Basil  arrested  her. 

"Narka,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  her  arm,  "you 
are  a  noble-hearted  friend;  but  do  you  think  I  am  such 
a  pitiful  dog  as  to  take  this  money  from  you  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  said,  looking  at  him  in 
bewilderment.  "  Is  it  because  it  is  mine  that  you  would 
refuse  it?     Oh,  Basil!" 

There  was  a  cry  of  pain  in  her  voice  as  from  a  wound- 
ed creature;  there  was  a  confession  too  in  it  that  betray- 
ed the  secret  of  her  heart. 

"I  would  take  anything  from  you,"  he  said,  conscious 
of  a  slight  shock  and  of  a  sudden  burst  of  tenderness 
toward  her;  "but  you  can't  give  it  to  me  without  sac- 
rificing yourself  and  your  mother.  Heaven  knows  when 
I  could  repay  it.  No,  I  can't  be  such  a  brute  as  to  rob 
TantcNatlialie!" 

"And  you  think  it  will  be  less  brutal  to  kill  me? 
Yes,  it  will  kill  me  if  they  arrest  you,  for  I  know,  and 
so  do  you,  what  will  happen,  once  you  are  in  their 
hands.  My  mother  knows  nothing  about  this  money; 
she  need  never  know  until  you  can  give  it  back  to  us. 
Oh,  Basil!  Basil!  don't  refuse  me;  it  will  kill  me  if  you 
do!"    Her  voice  broke,  her  eyes  were  raised  to  his,  brim- 


Ncirka.  15 

fill  of  tears,  and  saying  as  plainly  as  ever  eyes  of  wo- 
man spoke,  "  I  love  you!" 

Basil  was  moved  to  the  core  of  liis  heart.  He  forgot 
that  he  was  Prince  Zorokoff,  and  that  Narka  was  a  low- 
horn  Jewess;  he  forgot  everything  except  that  this  heau- 
tifiil  girl  loved  him,  and  was  offering  her  all  to  save  him. 

He  opened  Avide  his  arms.      ' '  Narka !" 

With  a  soh  she  sank  into  his  embrace.  For  one  long 
moment  he  held  her  clasped.  Tlien  lifting  her  head 
from  his  shoulder,  "Yes,  I  will  take  this  money  from 
you,"  he  said;  "but  only  on  one  condition:  Avill  you 
give  me  yourself  with  it  ?  Have  you  the  courage  to  be 
my  wife  ?" 

"I  should  give  my  life  for  you,"  she  answered. 

He  kissed  her  on  the  lips. 

"Basil,"  she  said,  "I  have  loved  you  all  my  life." 

"Dearest,  and  so  have  I  loved  you." 

And  he  spoke  the  truth,  but  wuth  a  difference. 

"I  must  be  going,"  she  said,  struggling  away  from 
him,  but  he  tightened  one  arm  round  her. 

"Wait  a  moment.  We  must  pledge  our  betrothal 
first."  Drawing  her  toward  a  table,  he  unlocked  a 
drawer  and  took  out  a  diamond  ring,  a  hoop  of  sev- 
ei'al  beautiful  stones.  "This  was  my  mother's  betrothal 
ring,"  he  said,  slipping  it  on  her  finger.  "Wear  it  till 
you  come  back  from  X. ;  then  let  it  hang  as  an  amulet 
round  your  neck  until  I  can  place  it  on  your  finger  be- 
fore all  the  world." 

"May  Sibyl  not  know?"  she  asked,  with  timid  hesi- 
tation. 

"No;  let  it  remain  a  secret  between  ourselves  until 
we  meet.     It  will  be  another  secret  binding  us  together." 

Ho  was  alluding  to  the  ransom  she  was  giving  him; 
but  Narka  grew  pale. 


70  Narha. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  almost  under  her  breath,  "it  will 
be  another  bond  between  us." 

He  kissed  her  again,  and  she  hurried  away,  carrying 
"with  her  the  packet  of  letters  he  had  intrusted  to  her. 

Basil  went  to  Marguerite's  door  and  knocked;  but 
getting  no  answer,  he  went  down  to  the  dining-room. 
Sibyl  was  there  waiting  for  him,  and  sat  with  him  while 
he  partook  of  the  meal  that  had  been  hastily  ordered,  up. 
Basil  was  only  four-and-twenty,  and  he  was  in  rude 
health,  and  no  amount  of  mental  trouble  could  destroy 
his  appetite,  or  take  away  the  natural  cravings  of  hunger. 

Sibyl  saw  that  he  was  too  tired  yet  to  care  to  talk 
much,  so  she  busied  lierself  helping  him  to  good  things, 
and  kept  up  a  lively  flow  of  monologue,  telling  him  all 
that  had  happened  since  his  departure,  the  excitement  in 
the  village.  Marguerite's  illness,  everything  that  could 
interest  him  and  save  him  the  trouble  of  answering 
further  than  by  an  occasional  remark  or  question. 

But  while  Basil  was  listening  to  Sibyl,  his  thoughts 
were  elsewhere.  He  was  in  a  strange  state  of  mind  and 
feeling.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  suddenly  become 
another  person,  as  if  a  new  Basil  had  been  added  to  the 
old  one.  He  hardly  realized  yet  what  he  had  done,  or 
what  was  to  come  of  it.  He  had  made  a  tremendous 
leap  in  the  dark,  and  he  was  wondering  where  it  had 
landed  him.  He  had  taken  a  step  which  must  change  the 
whole  aspect  and  current  of  his  life.  He  had  done  it 
without  a  moment's  premeditation,  on  the  spur  of  a  sud- 
den impulse  of — passion,  was  it  ?  or  generous  gratitude? 
He  was  not  calm  enough  to  analyze  his  own  heai't  at 
this  crisis,  or  balance  nicely  the  conflicting  forces  which 
liad  moved  him  to  ask  Narka  to  be  his  wife.  And  what 
would  Sibyl  say  ?  She  loved  Narka  dearly,  as  dearly  as 
il"  they  had  been  sisters  in  flesh  and  blood;  but  this  per- 


Harka.  7  7 

sonal  fondness  wtis  quite  compatible  with  invincible  re- 
pugnance to  Narka  as  a  sister-in-law;  SibN'l's  soft  grace 
of  manner  was  so  entirely  free  from  morgue  as  to  lead 
her  inferiors  to  believe  she  was  altogether  unconscious 
of  any  superiority  toward  them;  but  beneath  this  out- 
ward suavity  there  existed  a  spirit  of  family  pride  that 
was  hard  as  flint  and  strong  to  fanaticism.  How 
would  she  take  the  announcement  that  a  Jewish  traders 
daughter  was  going  to  queen  it  over  her  as  Princess 
Zorokoff,  the  head  of  the  family  ? 

This  was  not  the  only  problem  that  was  vexing  Basil's 
soul  while  he  ate  his  caviare  and  salad.  The  image  of 
Marguerite  kept  forcing  itself  before  his  eyes  with  a  per- 
sistency that  was  unwarrantably  troublesome.  He  had 
long  since  recognized  in  his  little  French  cousin  a  crea- 
ture of  a  different  mould  from  any  that  he  had  ever 
met;  the  charm  of  her  brightness,  her  happy  spirit, 
her  child-like  freshness  of  heart,  had  been  working  on 
him  like  a  spell.  He  had  been  aware  of  this,  and  had 
not  attempted  to  resist  the  influence;  he  knew  that  it 
was  Sibj'l's  cherished  dream  that  he  should  marry  Mar- 
guerite, and  he  had  been  onlj^  held  back  from  pursu- 
ing it  by  the  fear  that  he  had  entangled  himself  in  politi- 
cal engagements  from  Avhich  it  would  be  cowardly  and 
unfaithful  to  break  loose.  Still  he  had  been  in  a  dreamy, 
delicious  Avay  caressing  possibilities,  and  it  had  struck 
him  more  than  once  that  Marguerite  would  not  have  re- 
pulsed him.  He  was  not  vainer  than  most  men,  but 
he  could  not  help  seeing  that  she  changed  color  some- 
times under  his  glance,  and  that  her  saucy,  wistful  eyes 
took  a  softer,  a  more  timid  expression  when  they  met 
his;  he  had  noted  these  signs  with  a  pleasant  sense  of 
power  unchecked  by  any  scruples  or  remorse,  for  he  had 
the  consciousness  of  being  quite  willing,  and  he  sus- 


78  Narha. 

pected  able,  to  heal  any  wound  he  might  make  in  her 
innocent  young  heart.  But  now  he  saw  things  diffex'- 
ently.  His  conscience  smote  him ;  he  felt  a  pang  at  the 
thought  of  having  perhaps  involuntarily  inflicted  one 
on  her.  He  longed  to  see  her;  he  must  see  her  once 
again.  It  would  be  with  very  different  feelings  now 
from  those  with  which  he  would  have  met  her  an  hour 
ago;  but  he  thought  of  Narka,  of  her  ripe,  glowing 
beauty,  her  tender,  self-sacrificing  love,  and  he  would 
not  let  himself  by  so  much  as  a  passing  sigh  be  unfaith- 
ful to  the  loyalty  he  had  sworn  to  her. 

Marguerite  was  in  the  drawing-room  Avhen  he  return- 
ed there  with  Sibyl.  The  meeting  was  much  less  awk- 
ward til  an  Basil  had  feared.  It  was  natural  that  he 
should  be  affectionately  interested  in  his  cousin,  who 
looked  still  pale  enough  to  warrant  Sibyl's  reproach 
that  she  had  been  tiring  herself  by  writing  letters. 

"  You  must  let  me  put  you  lying  down,  clierie,"  Sibyl 
said,  "and  Basil  Avill  tell  us  all  about  his  journey  Avhile 
you  are  resting." 

But  Basil  protested  regretfully  that  he  could  not  enjoy 
this  relief  of  sitting  quietly  and  talking  to  them.  He 
must  go  and  tell  Ivan  Gorff  the  good  news  before  he 
could  enjoy  anything. 

"  We  will  send  for  him  to  come  up  and  hear  it,"  sug- 
gested Sibyl. 

"No,  no;  I  must  take  it  to  him  myself,"  Basil  re- 
plied, with  a  touch  of  imiiatience  that  silenced  her.  Ivan 
was  a  pretext  for  going  to  the  Stanovo'i  to  inform  him 
that  the  money  would  be  forth-coming.  Basil  could  not 
tell  Sibyl  that  he  Avas  under  Avarrant  of  arrest;  he  felt 
unequal  to  the  effort  of  having  to  console  her,  and,  be- 
sides, he  was  not  yet  certain  of  being  able  to  ransom  him- 
self.    Narka  might  have  some  delay,  the  notaiy  might 


Narka.  79 

be  out,  the  key  of  his  strong-box  might  not  be  forth- 
coming at  once,  an  accident  might  have  happened;  who 
could  tell  ?  When  luck  is  against  a  man,  he  must  reckon 
with  bad  chances. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  offered  to  accompany  his  brother-in- 
law,  but  Basil  said  that  as  Sophie  was  ill,  Ivan  might 
not  be  disposed  to  receive  a  visit.  It  was  rather  a  lame 
excuse,  but  M.  de  Beaucrillon  understood,  as  Sibyl  did, 
that  he  wished  to  see  Ivan  alone,  and  did  not  press  his 
company  upon  him.  It  was  natural  enough,  Gaston  said 
to  himself,  that,  under  the  circumstances,  Basil  should 
fight  shy  of  a  Frenchman;  the  latter  rather  admired 
him  for  being  ashamed  of  having  a  foreigner  witness  the 
way  his  country  was  governed.  Poor  fellow,  he  looked 
piteously  worn,  Gaston  thought,  as  he  noticed  his  sunk- 
en eyes  and  haggard,  unkempt  air,  like  that  of  a  man 
who  has  not  slept  for  nights. 

Ivan  was  not  at  home,  as  Basil,  who  had  met  him 
at  X.,  knew,  but  the  Stanovoi  was.  He  asked  no  ques- 
tions. So  long  as  he  got  his  money,  he  did  not  care 
where  it  came  from.  He  assumed  that  the  French  bro- 
ther-in-law had  come  down  with  it;  in  fact,  he  had  reck- 
oned on  this  when  he  named  so  exorbitant  a  figure.  The 
ZorokofFs  were  wealthy,  but  ready  money  was  scarce  at 
Yrakow;  it  all  went  to  St.  Petersburg,  where  the  Prince 
made  it  fly  as  fast  as  he  got  it.  The  castle  kept  itself; 
there  was  plenty  on  the  property  of  all  that  was  wanted, 
and  what  tlie  property  did  not  provide  was  done  without. 
The  result  was  that  odd  mixture  of  lavish  abundance  and 
uncivilized  discomfort,  traces  of  which  Avere  even  still 
visible  in  certain  details,  notwithstanding  Sibyl's  pres- 
ence and  the  reign  of  orderly  splendor  that  she  brought 
'  with  her. 

The  interview  with  the  Stanovoi  was  short.     Basil 


80  NarJm. 

liad  nothing'  else  to  do  in  the  village,  and  nowhere  else 
to  go,  and  two  hours  must  yet  elapse  before  Narka 
returned,  giving  all  chances  favorable.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  to  go  back  to  the  house  and  spend  the  in- 
terval with  Marguerite  and  the  others.  The  effort  of  de- 
ceiving them,  and  keeping  the  secret  that  was  holding  his 
very  life  in  suspense,  was  more  than  he  felt  equal  to. 
In  another  hour  he  would  go  back  and  quietly  put  up 
the  few  things  he  wanted  to  take  with  hiui. 

The  night  had  closed  in,  and  the  moon  had  not  risen, 
so  it  was  nearly  pitch-dark.  Basil  paced  along  the  road, 
ruminating  in  bitter  perplexity  of  spirit.  Suddenly  Pe- 
ter, his  dog,  gave  a  low  growl,  and  then  an  angry  bark, 
as  if  warning  oif  an  enemy  close  at  hand.  Basil  had 
no  doubt  but  that  some  agent  of  the  Stanovoi's  was 
Avatching  him.  He  struck  a  match,  and  looked  at  his 
watch.  Nai'ka  had  been  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half 
gone.  It  was  time  he  went  home,  and  got  ready  to  start, 
assuming  that  he  was  to  do  so.  He  turned  back,  walking 
quickly,  for  the  air  was  frosty,  and  his  breath  made  a 
cloud  before  him  as  he  went.  Suddenlj^  the  moon  rose, 
and  a  few  stars  sprang  out  in  attendance,  and  the  road, 
black  a  moment  befoi'e,  was  filled  with  light.  On  one 
side  there  was  a  copse,  toward  which  Peter's  ill-will  was 
directed,  judging  from  the  way  he  growled  at  it  now 
and  then.  Basil,  following  the  dog's  indication,  kept 
looking  that  way;  the  outer  trees  threw  a  tracery  of 
shadow  and  sheen  on  the  ground,  but  farther  back  it 
was  all  a  chaos  of  stems;  presently  his  eyes,  sharpened 
by  presentiment,  descried  the  figure  of  a  man  stealing 
along  through  the  Avoods.  Basil  was  quite  certain  that 
he  had  been  watched  since  he  left  X.,  but  the  sight  of 
this  spy,  dogging  him  in  the  dark,  made  him  realize  the 
fact  with  a  shock,  and  it  seemed  also  to  bring  more  viv- 


Ncirka.  81 

idly  before  him  the  nearness  of  the  peril  on  the  brink  of 
which  he  stood.  If  Narka  should  be  late,  or  fail  in  her 
errand — 

How  slowly  the  time  dragged  on !  He  quickened  his 
step;  his  foot-fall  rang  sharp  and  clear  on  the  hard  road. 
Peter  trotted  on,  and  ceased  to  growl.  Suddenly  he 
stood,  tail  and  ears  up-pricked ;  then  with  a  loud  bark 
turned  and  dashed  back  down  the  road.  Basil  turned 
too,  and  listened.  Was  that  the  sound  of  galloping 
hoofs  that  he  heard  ?  Could  it  be  Narka  ?  He  stopped 
smoking,  he  almost  stopped  breathing,  as  the  sound  drew 
neai'er.  Peter  was  barking  violently,  joyously.  The 
horse  came  in  sight.  It  was  Narka.  Basil  stepped  into 
the  middle  of  the  road,  where  the  brilliant  moonlight 
shone  unobstructed  by  a  shadow,  and  waved  his  hand. 
She  pulled  up,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  beside  her. 

"Here  it  is,"  she  said,  in  a  cautious  tone,  stooping  over 
him.  "I  will  ride  on,  and  leave  this  poor  beast  at  the 
stables,  and  wait  for  you  in  the  court."  She  unclasped 
the  lieavy  bag  that  was  fastened  round  her  waist,  and 
Basil  took  it,  and  walked  on  rapidly  after  her. 

On  entering  the  outer  court  he  ordered  a  groom  to  get 
ready  a  carriage  with  four  stout  horses.  He  then  walk- 
ed on  into  the  second  court ;  he  was  about  to  enter  the 
house  when  some  one  stepped  forward  and  said,  "  Does 
your  Excellency  want  to  speak  to  me  ?" 

"Ah!  it  is  you.  Yes,  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  Basil 
replied,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  Very  considerate  of  you 
to  turn  up  just  at  the  right  moment.  Come  in  here,  will 
you  ?" 

The  Stanovoi  followed  him  into  the  house,  and  they 
entered   a  room  close  at  hand.     Basil  struck  a  light. 
They  were    closeted    for    a    few   minutes  —  just   long 
enough  to  count  the  money. 
6 


82  Narka. 

"Now,  Excellency,  depart  with  speed,  aud  don't  let 
the  grass  grow  under  your  feet  till  you  have  passed  the 
frontier." 

The  Stanovoi  bowed  low,  and  hugging  his  bag,  went 
out. 

Narka  was  waiting  in  the  entry  when  Basil  reappear- 
ed. The  tawny  flame  of  an  oil  lamp  gave  enough  light 
to  let  them  see  each  other.  Basil  caught  her  in  Lis 
arms  and  kissed  her  again  and  again.  Tlien,  brusquely 
releasing  her,  he  turned  to  ascend  the  stairs,  and  flew 
up  to  his  room. 

Narka,  in  a  tumult  of  bliss  and  agitation,  went  up  to 
hers.  She  was  shaken  to  pieces  by  her  mad  ride;  but 
there  was  no  time  to  rest;  there  was  no  time  to  think. 
She  must  be  ready  to  go  to  Basil  before  he  went  down- 
stairs, and  say  good-by  to  him  alone  before  going 
through  the  ceremony  of  doing  so  in  the  drawing-room. 
She  divested  herself  quickly  of  her  riding-habit,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  attire  herself  in  a  dress  of  white  cashmere  that 
Basil  admired;  it  was  a  fantastic  garment  of  her  own 
contrivance,  made  with  much  artistic  effect,  but  quite  re- 
gardless of  fashion.  She  clasped  a  dead-gold  band 
round  her  waist,  and  fastened  a  crimson  rose  in  her  hair, 
and  witli  a  great  joy  and  a  great  terror  in  her  heart  went 
to  seek  Basil,  but  as  she  reached  the  broad  landing  on 
which  his  room  opened  she  saw  M.  deBeaucrillon  stand- 
ing at  the  door.  It  was  a  terrible  contretemps ;  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done,  but  she  must  go  down-stairs, 
and  trust  to  Basil  managing  to  find  a  moment  alone  with 
her  before  he  fled.  She  found  Sibyl  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

"Well,  you  have  seen  Tante  Nathalie?"  exclaimed 
Sibyl,  who  had  taken  for  granted  that  Narka  had  gone 
out  with  the  good  news  to  her  mother.      "She  will  come 


JVarka.  83 

out  for  a  di'ive  now,  I  hope?  But  oh,  Narka,  liow  ill 
Basil  looks !  Gaston  says  he  has  gi-own  liv^e  yeai'S 
olclei"  this  last  week.  What  a  time  he  staid  -with  Ivan  I 
He  has  only  just  Come  back,  it  seems." 

"It  has  been  a  terrible  week  for  all  of  us,"  Narka 
said,  ignoring  the  last  remarks.  She  was  standing  near 
a  console,  one  hand  resting  on  the  porphyry  slab ;  a  large 
silver  h^mp  high  placed  on  a  malachite  pillar  behind  her 
threw  its  golden  light  over  her  soft  white  draperies, 
and  made  her  hair  shine  like  a  nimbus.  Perhaps  the 
light  of  a  deep  and  tender  joy  burning  in  her  eyes  and 
trembling  on  her  full  red  lips  touched  her  with  its  out- 
ward and  visible  glory,  for  Sibyl,  who  had  been  gazing  in 
a  comfortable  ecstasy  up  at  the  gods  and  goddesses  on 
the  ceiling,  glanced  at  her  suddenly,  and  was  struck  by 
something  in  her  aspect. 

' '  Narka, "  she  exclaimed, ' '  you  look  like  an  archangel !" 

"Never  having  seen  an  archangel,"  said  M.  de  Beau- 
crillon,  sauntering  into  the  room,  "I  was  mentally  com- 
paring mademoiselle  to  a  vestal,  or  a  Gi'eek  bride." 

"Why  Greek,  mon  cher  ?"  said  Sibyl. 

Narka  blushed,  and  turned  her  large  liquid  glance 
smilingly  on  M.  de  Beaucrillon.  It  was  not  often  he 
took  the  trouble  to  be  complimentary,  and  being  a  wo- 
man and  beautiful,  she  was  pleased.  But  it  was  not  self- 
ish coquetry  that  made  her  feel  that  sudden  thrill  of 
exultation  in  her  own  beauty.  She  was  proud  of  it  for 
Basil's  sake  now. 

Partly  to  escaj^e  from  the  embarrassment  of  standing 
to  be  admired,  and  partly  from  her  natural  impulse  to 
give  vent  to  her  overwrought  feelings  in  song,  she  moved 
to  the  piano,  and  sat  down  and  began  to  warble  a  bridal 
song  in  Russian.  The  words  were  unintelligible  to  M. 
de  Beaucrillon,  but  the  pathos  of  the  melody  and  the 


84  Narha. 

penetrating  sweetness  of  the  voice  moved  him  sti'angely. 
He  said  to  himself,  as  he  gazed  and  listened : 

"  What  can  Zorokoff  be  made  of,  that  he  has  not  fall- 
en under  the  spell  of  such  a  creature  ?" 

When  the  bridal  song  came  to  an  end — quickly,  for 
Nai'ka  was  impatient  to  escape — he  entreated  her  to  sing 
it  again.  She  could  not  refuse,  and  perhaps  the  impa- 
tience of  her  soul  made  her  tlirow  more  fire  of  passion 
into  the  pathetic  melody,  for  when  it  ceased  M.  de  Beau- 
crillon  was  so  overcome  that  he  had  not  a  word  of 
thanks  ready,  but  let  her  rise  from  the  piano  in  silence. 

"What  can  be  keeping  Marguerite  so  long,  I  Avon- 
der  ?"  Narka  remarked.  "I  must  go  and  see;"  and  she 
Avalked  slowly  out  of  the  room. 

"And  what  can  be  keeping  Basil?"  said  Sibyl.  She 
was  gi'owing  fidgety.  "I  think  I  must  go  and  look  after 
him." 

"He  was  taking  a  bath  when  I  knocked  just  now, 
Vasili  told  me,"  replied  Gaston. 

"Oh,  then  he  will  be  here  presently,  no  doubt;"  and 
she  sat  down. 

As  she  did  so  a  valet  came  in  with  a  letter,  which  he 
presented  to  her.  It  Avas  in  Basil's  Avriting.  Sibyl 
opened  it  with  a  cry  and  a  start,  and  drew  out  a  sealed 
envelop  addressed  to  Father  Christopher,  and  then  a  note 
that  she  read  rapidly. 

"  Oh,  my  God !     This  is  too  dreadful !"  she  cried  out. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  snatched  up  the  note.  "  Good  hea- 
vens !  Gone !  Fled !  Where  have  they  taken  him  ?  To 
Siberia  ?  My  God !  Avhat  a  country  to  live  in !"  With 
a  muttered  expletive  he  threw  down  the  letter,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  try  and  calm  Sibyl,  who  had  burst  into  hysteri- 
cal grief. 

Meantime  Narka  had  gone  and  knocked  at  Basil's 


Narka.  85 

door,  and  getting  no  answer,  opened  it.  The  room  was 
empty.  She  called  his  name,  hut  thei'e  was  no  response. 
In  a  flash  of  lightning  she  guessed  the  truth:  he  was 
gone.  But  where?  Could  the  Stanovoi  have  plaj^ed 
him  false  ?  She  glanced  round  the  rooms.  The  lights 
Avere  burning,  but  there  was  nothing  to  give  the  least 
clew  of  why  or  how  he  had  fled.  Sick  with  terror, 
Narka  took  up  a  candle  and  went  on  to  her  own  room. 
Perhaps  he  was  there  waiting  for  her.  The  room  was 
empty,  but  on  the  table— a  little  round  table  with  a  green 
velvet  cover  on  which  there  was  a  solitary  book — lay 
a  letter.     At  a  glance  she  saw  it  was  fx'om  Basil. 

"My  Narka, — I  have  not  the  courage  to  meet  you 
again,  since  we  have  to  part  at  once.  Adieu,  beloved. 
I  will  write  when  it  is  possible.  I  owe  you  my  life. 
It  is  yours  for  all  time.  Basil." 

Narka  sank  into  a  chair,  clutching  the  note  in  her 
fingers.  Grone!  Without  one  moi^e  embrace!  How 
could  he?  But  the  relief  of  knowing  that  he  had  es- 
caped, that  he  had  not  been  treacherously  entrapped 
to  his  ruin,  as  she  had  feared  for  a  moment,  was  so  great 
that  it  helped  her  to  forget  the  cruel  disappointment. 
She  recovered  herself  quickly,  and  remembered,  with 
that  strong  sympathy  for  the  suffering  of  otliere  Avhich 
was  the  noble  side  of  her  nature,  that  Sibyl  and  Mai-- 
guerite  would  want  to  be  sustained  under  this  shock. 
Ah,  Marguerite !  Narka's  heart  went  out  to  the  child  in 
a  rush  of  purest  pity.  She  rose  and  hurried  to  her  room, 
but  the  news  had  got  there  before  her.  Marguerite  was 
on  her  knees  by  the  bed,  her  face  buried  in  the  eider- 
down, sobbing  bitterlj^,  so  bitterly  that  she  did  not  hear 
the  door  open,  or  Narka's  step  crossing  the  room;  she 


86  JSfarJca. 

was  only  made  aware  of  her  entrance  when  Narka  knelt 
down  and  took  her  in  her  arms  and  drew  her  head  upon 
lier  breast.  Marguerite  gave  herself  up  to  the  caress; 
it  was  pitiful  and  tender  as  ever  one  Avoman  gave  to 
another.  Narka  had  guessed  her  secret,  and  it  had  fired 
her  at  first  with  a  jealous  fear  that  lay  close  upon  ha- 
tred ;  but  that  Avas  gone  now,  and  she  felt  nothing  but 
compassion ;  she  could  afford  now  to  give  her  whole 
sympathy  to  the  woman  who  loved  Basil,  and  loved 
liim  hopelessly. 

Wlien  the  first  jmroxysm  of  tears  had  spent  itself, 
Marguerite  raised  her  head  from  Narka's  shoulder,  and 
they  stood  uj)  together. 

"  Oh,  Narka,  it  is  terrible!"  she  said,  struggling  with 
the  sobs  that  made  her  bosom  heave.  "If  we  only 
knew  that  he  was  .safe!" 

"  He  is  safe,  darling;  that  we  may  be  certain  of,"  said 
Narka. 

"Oh,  thank  God!  I  only  heard  that  he  was  gone; 
that  Sibyl  had  a  few  words  saying  he  had  to  fly.  Where 
is  he  gone,  do  you  know  ?" 

"  He  is  making  for  tlie  frontier;  and  once  beyond  it, 
he  will  be  out  of  danger." 

Marguerite  murmured  something  that  Avas  swallowed 
up  in  a  great  sob.  After  a  moment  she  laid  her  hand 
on  Narka's  shoulder,  and  putting  her  lips  close  to  her 
ear,  "Tell  me,"  she  said  in  a  whisper  that  was  .scarcely 
audible,  "  is  it — is  he  only  accused  of  politics,  or  is  it — 
anything  else,  do  you  know  ?" 

"They  have  accused  him  of  nothing  worse  than  of 
hating  tyrants  and  of  conspiring  against  them." 

"Ah!"  The  exclamation  sounded  like  a  gasp  of  re- 
lief. 

They  were  silent  for  a  minute,  standing  close  together. 


Narka.  87 

Narka  like  a  strong  archangel,  with  her  arm  thrown 
protectingly  round  the  small,  child-like  figure  that  was 
still  shaken,  with  sobs. 

"Darling,"  said  Narka,  "you  are  too  agitated  to  come 
down-stairs  or  see  any  one  this  evening.  I  will  put  you 
to  bed,  and  say  that  you  were  not  well." 

Marguerite  understood.  She  kissed  Narka,  and  gave 
herself  up  like  a  child  to  be  undressed  and  put  to  bed. 


88  Narka. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

M.  DE  Beaucrillon  wanted  to  be  off  next  morning. 
Sibyl  had  some  difficulty  in  making  liim  see  that  this 
was  imi)ossible.  There  was  a  multitude  of  things  to  be 
done,  she  urged — things  that  she  alone  could  do.  All 
the  festivities  and  hospitalities  had  beencountermanded 
and  put  off;  but  preparations  for  these  had  been  made 
on  the  grandest  scale,  and  this  involved  a  large  settling 
of  accounts  that  no  one  else  could  attend  to.  Besides 
these  reasons,  Basil  had  enclosed  to  her  in  his  own  short 
note  a  letter  for  Father  Cln-istopher,  Avhich  he  desii'ed  she 
Avould  hand  him  herself.  Sibyl  could  not  leave  this 
commission  unfulfilled;  and,  moreover,  it  was  out  of  the 
question  her  going  away  without  seeing  Father  Chris- 
topher, quite  independently  of  otlier  impediments.  The 
Mayor,  in  answer  to  her  inquiry  whether  they  were  to 
expect  the  father  that  day,  sent  word  that  no  message 
had  been  received  from  X.,  but  that  it  was  not  likely 
he  would  be  set  free  before  Monday,  certain  formalities 
liaving  to  be  gone  through  before  a  prisoner  w^as  released, 
even  after  the  receipt  of  the  order  to  that  effect. 

"What  confounded  humbug!"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon. 
"The  brutes  are  just  doing  it  in  order  to  make  me 
spend  another  Sunday  in  this  place.  Well,  look  here, 
Sibyl:  I'll  wait  till  Monday,  but  on  Tuesday  morning 
we  start.     There  is  a  limit  to  what  man  can  bear." 

"My  dear  Gaston,  the  limit  is  very  soon  reached  with 
you,"  said  Sibyl. 

"Just  look  at  her!"  Gaston  said,  appealing  to  Narka. 


Narka.  89 

"Look  at  the  state  liei*  eyes  are  in!  The  lids  are  so 
red  and  swollen  that  it  is  frightful  to  behold,  and  she 
looks  about  thirty!  Your  head  is  aching  fit  to  split," 
he  added,  looking  defiantly  at  his  wife;  "I  know  it  is. 
You  did  not  sleep  an  hour  last  night.  Just  look  at 
youi'self  in  the  glass,  and  see  what  a  complexion  you 
have!" 

There  was  something  grotesque  to  Narka  in  the 
spectacle  of  M.  de  Beaucrillon  standing  before  his 
wife,  bewailing  her  swollen  eyes  and  her  damaged 
complexion,  when  such  grievous  anxiety  was  absorbing 
tliem  all. 

If  Father  Christopher  did  not  arrive  to-morrow,  Sat- 
urday, it  was  likely  enough  they  would  retain  him  to 
keep  the  Sabbath  day  at  X.,  and  not  let  him  free  until 
Monday,  as  the  Stanovoi  suggested.  M.  de  Beaucrillon 
made  up  his  mind  to  the  Avorst,  and  heroically  faced 
the  fact  that  he  had  three  whole  days  to  bear  up  under 
the  deadly  pall  of  the  place.  He  was  anxiou.s,  unselfish- 
ly anxious,  on  Marguerite's  account,  to  be  off.  He  could 
not  but  see  that  she  was  looking  wretched. 

"This  place  doesn't  suit  you,  petite  perle,''  he  said, 
taking  her  chin  between  his  fingers  and  thumb  and  im- 
printing a  brotherly  kiss  on  her  forehead.  "  I  wish  we 
were  back  in  France ;  if  we  had  to  spend  another  month 
here,  you  and  Sibyl  would  be  in  your  coffins.  I  should 
probably  be  in  mine.  This  atmosphere  of  dramatic  emo- 
tions, sudden  arrests,  and  hair-breadth  escapes,  of  cruelty 
and  agonized  despair,  is  enough  to  suffocate  any  man 
not  to  the  manner  born.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  playing 
a  subordinate  and  rather  contemptible  part  in  a  tragedy. 
It  is  intolerable." 

He  remembered,  howevei",  that  it  was  only  to  last 
three  days  longer,  and  took  heart,  lighted  a  cigar,  and 


90  Narka. 

went  out  for  a  ride.  M.  de  Beaucrillou  Avas  the  only 
person  at  Yrakow  who  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  the 
approaching  departure.  To  Narka  it  was  a  prospect 
of  bitter  pain.  Parting-  with  Sibyl  was  to  her  like  i)art" 
ing  with  fire  in  midwinter.  When  Sibyl  went  away,  the 
glory  of  the  land  departed  Avith  her.  Eldorado  was  a 
place  where  all  the  women  were  like  Sibyl,  and — if  this 
were  possible  even  in  Eldorado — all  the  men  like  Basil. 
Narka  had,  it  is  true,  a  supreme  consolation  to  sustain 
her  under  the  present  parting;  but  even  tliis  had  its  drop 
of  bitterness;  she  felt  guilty  of  a  kind  of  treachery  in 
not  telling  Sibyl  of  her  engagement.  She  longed  and 
she  dreaded  to  tell  her.  How  would  Sibyl  take  it? 
Would  she  open  her  arms  and  welcome  her  as  Basil's 
wife?  or  would  that  pride  of  birth  which  ran  through 
her  veins  as  naturally,  and  almost  as  unceasingly,  as  her 
blood,  rise  up  like  a  snake  and  turn  against  the  old  sis- 
terly love  and  sting  it  to  death  ?  Narka  had  been  ask- 
ing herself  tliis  question  ever  since  Basil  had  slipped  the 
ring  upon  her  finger  last  night.  But  there  were  many 
other  things  she  longed  to  talk  over  with  Sibyl:  BasiVs 
personal  concerns;  his  chances  of  being  forgiven  and 
pei'mitted  to  return  to  Russia;  the  possibility  of  indefi- 
nite exile;  all  that  this  involved — the  ruin  of  his  career, 
tlie  utter  blight  of  his  prospects;  but  she  dared  not  trust 
herself  to  enter  on  these  things,  lest  involuntarily  she 
might  betray  the  secret  which  Basil  enjoined  on  her  to 
keep  strictly;  it  seemed  as  if  the  very  tone  in  which 
she  now  pronounced  his  name  nuist  tell  a  talc,  it  sound- 
ed to  herself  so  full  of  consciousness. 

Sibyl,  on  her  side,  had  a  multitude  of  interests  that 
she  wanted  to  talk  over  with  Narka ;  but  she  made  up  her 
mind  to  Avait  until  the  tiresome  necessary  things  Avere 
done,  and  then  to  devote  tlic  remaining  sliort  time  to 


JViirka.  9 1 

uadisturbetl  enjoyment  of  her  friend.  One  thing'  she 
did  entei'  on  at  once  that  afternoon.  It  was  to  ask 
Narka  to  come  with  Tante  Nathalie  and  spend  the  win- 
ter at  the  castle,  instead  of  living*  in  their  cottage  in  the 
village.  But  Narka  refused.  She  loved  the  lordly  old 
fortress,  with  its  towers  and  stately  rooms  and  echoing' 
galleries,  and  pictures  and  works  of  art;  these  surround- 
ings were  as  pleasant  and  congenial  to  her  as  space 
and  the  free  air  of  nature  to  the  denizens  of  the  forest; 
but  she  could  not  stay  in  possession  of  them  now  that 
they  were  i^rospectively  her  own ;  there  would  be  a  sort 
of  hypocrisy  in  acce^jting'  Sibyl's  offer,  it  seemed  to  her; 
so  she  declined  it  on  the  plea  that  they,  two  lone  women, 
would  feel  less  lonely  in  their  snug  little  cottage,  with 
humble  neighbors  all  I'ound  them,  than  in  the  splendid 
solitude  of  the  castle. 

Next  morning,  Saturday,  M.  de  Beaucrillon  proposed, 
the  moment  he  came  down-stairs,  that  if  Father  Christo- 
pher was  not  back  by  twelve  o'clock,  or  if  there  was  no 
assurance  of  the  exact  time  of  his  return,  Sibyl  should 
drive  in  to  X.  after  lunch  and  see  the  governor  of  the 
prison,  and  ask  what  the  delay  meant.  Sibyl  began 
to  protest  at  the  utter  foolishness  of  such  a  step,  which 
would  advance  nothing,  besides  wasting  one  of  the 
last  precious  days  at  Yrakow;  but  her  husband  was 
resolute,  so  she  yielded. 

"We  shall  have  a  quiet  time  together  on  the  road, 
anyhow;  that  will  be  something,"  she  said  to  Narka. 

Narka  was  glad ;  glad  above  all  to  feel  that  Sibyl  held 
to  a  quiet  time  with  her;  that  she  was  sighing  for  one  of 
those  heart-to-heart  talks  that  they  had  been  used  to  in 
old  times,  and  had  scarcely  enjoyed  with  real  satisfaction 
during  these  three  weeks  when  Sibyl  had  been  taken  up 
with  hospitable  cares  and  activities. 


92  Narha. 

Marguerite  was  to  drive  down  in  the  pony-carriage 
with  Narka  to  see  Tante  Nathalie  after  lunch. 

"To  think  that  I  have  not  been  to  see  your  mother 
all  this  time!"  she  said,  regretfully;  "and  now  I  am 
only  going  to  say  good-by." 

At  eleven  o'clock  it  began  to  rain — a  heavy,  slanting 
rain  that  drove  against  the  window-panes  and  washed 
them ;  the  rain  stopped,  and  it  began  to  snow,  first  in  a 
sleety  shower,  then  in  thick  flakes  that  made  a  white 
fog,  and  quickly  spread  a  white  layer  on  the  wet 
ground.  The  drive  to  X.  was  a  dreary  outlook.  There 
was  just  the  possibility,  however,  that  it  might  be  avoid- 
ed. Father  Christopher  might  return  before  they  set 
out.  If  he  came,  he  would  come  early,  the  Stanovoi 
said. 

The  snow  continued  to  fall  with  increasing  volume; 
the  wind  rose,  and  blew  steadily  from  the  north,  driving 
the  flakes  furiously  before  it.  Twelve  o'clock  came. 
There  was  no  message,  and  no  arrival.  The  carriage 
was  to  be  ready  at  one,  and  take  Narka  and  Marguerite 
down  to  Tante  Nathalie  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  return 
to  take  Sibyl  and  Narka  in  to  X. 

Sibyl  was  in  the  library,  writing  off  the  last  notes. 
She  was  so  busy  that  she  did  not  hear  the  luncheon  bell. 
Marguerite  came  and  fetched  her.  They  had  scarcely 
entered  the  dining-room  when  a  servant  rushed  in  with 
the  news  that  a  carriage,  which  had  been  coming  at  full 
speed  along  the  X.  road,  had  just  entered  the  park. 

"It  is  Father  Christopher!"  cried  Sibyl;  and  with  a 
chorus  of  glad  exclamations  they  all  hurried  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  a  large  bow-window  commanded 
the  drive  almost  to  the  lodge  gate. 

The  carriage  came  on  through  the  blinding  snow. 
Sibyl  was  laughing  and  crying  with  joy;   Marguerite 


JVarka.  93 

was  in  a  fluttei*  of  excitement;  Narka,  outwardly  calm, 
but  with  a  beating  heart,  watched  the  carriage  drawing 
near. 

"  Let  us  meet  him  in  the  hall,"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon, 
as  the  horses  swept  round  to  the  terrace. 

They  ran  out,  ready  with  a  joyous  welcome. 

The  door  was  open ;  but  it  was  not  Father  Chi'istopher 
who  stood  on  the  threshold.  It  was  an  officer  in  uni- 
form. 

"The  Countess  de  Beaucrillon  ?"  he  inquired,  looking 
from  one  to  another  of  the  three  ladies. 

Sibyl  stepped  forward,  and  he  handed  her  a  letter. 

She  tore  it  open,  and  ran  her  eye  down  the  page. 
Then,  with  a  piercing  scream,  "My  God!  they  have  sent 
him  to  Siberia!" 


94  JSfarka. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Winter  reigned  at  Yrakow  in  all  its  severity.  The 
castle,  with  its  mighty  bastions  and  battlements  sheeted 
in  snow,  went  shelving  down  to  the  white  forest;  the 
fields  on  every  side  i)resented  an  interminable  rolling 
wliite  i^lain;  the  whole  earth  was  buried  deep  in  snow; 
and  still  it  snowed  and  snowed.  Narka  would  stand 
at  the  window  and  watch  the  flakes  falling  until  the  mo- 
notony of  the  motion  almost  sent  her  to  sleep.  The 
ghost-like  stillness  was  overpowering;  it  seemed  to  wrap 
everything  in  a  winding-sheet.  Not  a  sound  made  a 
break  in  it  all  day  long.  In  the  night-time  the  wolves 
came  down  into  the  village  and  howled;  but  except  for 
that  dismal  concert  the  laud  might  have  been  a  grave- 
yard, so  profound  was  the  hush.  Any  sound  would  have 
been  a  relief — the  voice  of  a  man,  the  cry  of  an  animal, 
the  creaking  of  a  wagon ;  but  these  would  have  seemed 
as  lihenomenal  as  if  the  stars  had  begun  to  talk  in  the 
midnight  skies. 

The  death-like  silence  of  external  nature  was  made 
doubly  oppressive  to  Narka  by  the  moral  silence  which 
enveloped  her  like  a  shroud.  Life  was  becalmed  in  a 
fog.  She  never  heard  from  Basil.  He  had  not  sent  lier 
a  sign  since  they  had  kissed  and  parted  after  that  ride 
of  hers  to  X.  This  cessation  of  all  intercourse  between 
them  was  inevitable,  but  at  times  it  was  unbearable.  If 
she  could  have  moved  away  anywhere,  have  changed 
])lace,  it  would  have  helped  her,  for  the  immobility  of 
life  adds  fearfully  to  its  weiglit  and  weariness.     The 


i 


Karka.  95 

spirit  is  wonderfully  relieved  sometimes  by  the  flight  of 
the  body,  and  the  old  Egyptians  expressed  a  common  hu- 
man need  as  well  as  a  deep  spiritual  mystery  in  their 
emblem  of  the  sistrum  agitated  on  either  side  of  the  sit- 
ting god  for  a  sign  that  motion  was  Life  and  stagnation 
Death.  There  was  nothing  to  stir  the  watei-s  round 
Narka,  and  her  moral  life  seemed  to  be  stagnating  like 
a  pool  in  the  desert. 

Taute  Nathalie's  rheumatism  and  peevish  complain- 
ings did  not  enliven  the  monotony  much.  She,  good 
soul,  found  excitement  enough  in  her  own  troubles,  past 
and  present,  in  her  knitting,  and  the  few  comings  and 
goings  of  the  morning.  This  daily  routine,  with  the  ever 
new  interest  of  ordering  the  meals  and  lecturing  the 
servants,  was  enough- to  keep  her  occupied;  but  Narka's 
hungry,  ardent  soul  craved  for  something  more,  and  the 
dull  white  days  and  the  long  black  nights  dragged  on 
with  intolerable  weight. 

Sibyl's  letters  were  the  solitary  incidents  that  broke 
the  leaden  monotony  of  her  life,  Sibyl  gave  her  news 
of  Basil.  They  had  agreed  to  speak  of  him  as  "M. 
Charles,"  a  cousin  of  Gaston's.  But  even  this  disguise 
had  to  be  carefully  used,  for  of  course  the  letters  were 
opened.  M.  Charles  could  not  send  messages  to  Narka, 
whom  ho  was  supposed  never  to  have  seen.  Sibyl  could 
only  say  that  he  was  hoping  to  make  her  acquaintance, 
and  inquiring  when  she  was  coming  to  France,  etc.  He 
was  himself  in  Italy,  studying  painting;  he  hoped  to 
come  to  Paris  in  the  spring,  unless  his  father  insisted 
on  his  accompanying  him  to  Scotland,  alias  Russia. 
These  meagre  details  were  to  Narka  like  drops  of  water 
to  a  thirsty  soul. 

About  her  own  life  Sibyl  spoke  freely.  It  was  evi- 
dently a  very  pleasant  one,  full  of  gay  activities,  balls, 


96  Narka. 

concerts,  dinners,  and  all  tlie  brilliant  devices  of  mod- 
ern society  for  making  the  daj^s  fly;  there  were  also 
benevolent  contrivances  for  helping  the  destitute,  and 
very  pleasant  opportunities  they  seemed  to  be,  by  Sibyl's 
accounts.  But  what  interested  Narka  most  in  these  per- 
sonal records  was  the  place  that  she,  though  absent, 
filled  in  them.  She  seemed  seldom  long  out  of  Sibyl's 
thoughts,  however  busy  or  brilliant  the  chapter  of  her 
life  might  be.  "  Oh,  my  Narka,  I  miss  you  so  terribly ! 
I  feel  your  absence  more  and  more  every  day.  There 
is  nobody  like  you — nobody  whose  sympathy  is  like 
yours,"  etc.,  etc.  Words  like  these  recurred  at  every 
page,  and  they  were  as  wine  to  Narka.  It  gave  her  con- 
fidence in  herself  to  be  reckoned  thus  amongst  the  best 
values  of  Sibyl's  life.  Since  Sibyl,  who  had  all  the 
world  to  choose  from— Sibyl,  whose  taste  was  so  refined, 
whose  sympathies  were  so  noble,  whose  instinct  was  so 
true — since  Sibyl  set  such  store  upon  her  she  could  not 
be  the  poor  worthless  creature  she  sometimes  fancied 
herself  in  moments  of  despair.  Then  she  would  remem- 
ber that  Basil  loved  her;  that  she  was  his  affianced 
bride ;  that  he  too  was  reckoning  the  days  until  he  could 
claim  her  for  his  own,  and  present  her  to  Sibyl  and  all 
the  world  as  his  wife.  She  could  surely  afford  to  wait, 
and  to  be  patient  under  the  present,  Avhen  the  future  held 
such  joy  in  store  for  her. 

Marguerite  wi'ote  occasionally,  brightly  and  affection- 
ately. But  toward  the  close  of  the  winter  Sibyl  began 
to  speak  of  Marguerite  with  anxiety.  The  cliild's  health 
was  very  delicate;  there  was  no  organic  ailment,  but  she 
was  drooping  like  a  flower;  they  had  had  several  ex- 
cellent offers  of  marriage  for  her,  but  she  had  refused 
them  all  unhesitatingly,  giving  no  reason  except  that 
she  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  marry. 


Narka.  97 

Narka  read  all  this  with  growing  apprehension. 
Could  it  be  that  Marguerite's  feeling  for  Basil  had  been 
deep  enough  to  make  her  shrink  from  tlie  idea  of  ever 
marrying  any  one  else  ?  Narka  had  never  contemplated 
sucli  trouble  as  this.  She  had  hoped,  and  had  come 
honestly  to  believe,  that  it  had  been  a  mere  passing  flame, 
such  as  the  first  accomplished  man  she  meets  kindles 
easily  in  the  heart  of  a  very  young  girl.  It  would  in- 
deed be  an  added  weight  on  Nai-ka's  spirit  if  bright  little 
Marguerite  was  entering  on  life  with  a  broken  heart. 

One  day  a  letter  came  announcing  that  the  doctors 
had  ordered  her  to  go  south  and  travel  for  a  couple 
of  months. 

"The  remedy  comes  most  opportunely,"  Sibyl  said. 
"M.  Charles  has  been  lingering  on  in  Florence,  intend- 
ing to  go  to  Rome  for  Lent.  It  will  be  delightful  for 
us  to  join  him  there,  and  I  am  very  much  in  need  of 
a  change  myself.  Marguerite  had  at  first  seemed  charm- 
ed at  the  idea  of  going  to  Rome,  but  all  of  a  sudden,  when 
the  programme  was  settled,  she  changed  her  mind,  and 
has  been  nervous  and  depressed  ever  since.  The  doctors 
say  this  uni'easonable  state  of  feeling  is  only  an  addition- 
al proof  that  she  wants  change,  and  they  assure  us  the 
journey  will  set  her  right.  We  are  now  in  the  bustle 
of  packing,  and  I  shall  probably  not  write  again  until 
we  are  starting." 

Narka  could  not  x^retend  to  herself  that  this  letter  was 
not  a  shock.  She  was  not  jealous;  she  did  not  for  a 
moment  doubt  the  strength  of  Basil's  constancy ;  but  it 
was  hardly  in  woman's  nature  that  she  should  not  feel 
uncomfortable  at  the  prospect  of  his  being  thrown  for 
two  months  into  daily  and  hourly  companionship  with 
a  charming  girl  who  was  deeply  in  love  with  him,  and 
whom  he  was  already  very  fond  of.  Oh  no,  Narka  was 
7 


98  Narha. 

not  jealous;  but  liev  heart  rose  in  passionate  rebellion 
against  the  cruel  fate  which  put  mountains  and  seas 
between  her  and  Basil,  and  forced  him  into  the  society 
of  Marguei'ite.  And  it  was  Sibyl's  doing !  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  Narka  felt  angry  with  Sibyl.  It  was 
very  Avell  to  talk  about  the  lucky  chance  that  had  brought 
this  meeting  about;  it  was  much  more  likely  the  result 
of  Sibyl's  clever  manoeuvring.  She  had  long  ago  set  her 
heart  on  this  marriage;  fate,  which  was  fighting  against 
Narka  with  such  overpowering  odds,  was  playing  into 
Sibyl's  hands,  those  pearly,  potelees  hands  whose  soft 
touch  had  such  a  compelling  power,  and  had  always 
made  everybody  and  everything  bend  to  their  will. 
They  were  now  bending  Marguerite's  destiny  to  it. 
Was  it  quite  impossible  that  they  should  eventually 
bend  Basil's  ? 

Narka  was  as  restless  in  the  narrow  cottage  rooms 
as  a  strong,  untamed  creature  in  a  cage.  It  was  hor- 
rible to  have  to  carry  this  gunshot  wound  in  her  flesh, 
and  go  about  with  a  smiling  countenance,discussing  with 
Madame  Larik  the  best  way  of  preparing  the  codfish 
for  dinner.  The  comedy  of  life  was  intolerable.  Why 
should  heaven  and  earth  be  set  against  her,  as  they  had 
been  from  her  cradle  up  ? 

"Narka,  you  are  singing  like  a  soul  in  purgatory  cry- 
ing out  for  prayei's,"  said  her  mother,  as  poor  Narka 
gave  vent  to  her  misery  in  a  strain  of  passionate  music. 

"Mother,  I  am  a  soul  in  purgatory,"  she  answered, 
with  a  dry  laugh.  "It  is  my  firm  belief  that  this  life  is 
purgatory,  and  that  in  the  next  there  will  be  only  heaven 
and  hell." 

"Dear!  dear!  what  a  wonderful  notion  you  have 
aljout  things!  Your  head  is  too  full  of  poetry,  child; 
not  but  that  there  may  be  some  sense  in  what  you  say. 


NarJca.  99 

I  do  believe  this  life  is  purgatory  to  many  of  us,  and 
mostly  to  those  who  don't  want  any  pui'gatory,  one 
would  tliink.     Alas!  alas!" 

Narka  knew  that  the  concluding  sigh  was  dii'ected  to 
Father  Christopher.  Each  knew  that  he  was  seldom  out 
of  the  other's  mind,  but,  as  by  tacit  consent,  they  never 
spoke  of  him. 

A  week  went  by.  There  was  a  fresh  fall  of  snow 
in  the  night.  The  next  morning  the  wind  rose,  and  blew 
with  its  might  from  the  north.  A  carrier  coming  on 
horseback  from  X.  said  the  roads  were  impassable  from 
the  drifts  that  rose  like  embankments  at  intervals.  For 
the  next  week  traffic  was  suspended.  If  Prince  Zorokoff 
had  been  at  home,  or  Count  LarchotT  alive,  there  would 
have  been  an  ai'my  of  scavengers  at  work ;  but  there  was 
no  one  there  now  to  press  the  peasants  into  the  service. 
Even  the  Stanovoi  was  away  at  X. ,  which  was  pleasanter 
in  this  weather  than  snowed-up  Yrakow. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  the  welcome  face  8f  the 
l)ostman  appeared  at  the  cottage  gate.  He  brought  two 
letters  from  Sibyl.  One  bore  the  Paris  postmark,  the 
other  that  of  Palermo.  Narka  went  up  to  her  room  to 
read  them  alone.     She  opened  the  one  from  Paris  first. 

"I  have  a  most  extraordinary  piece  of  news  to  tell 
you,  my  Narka,"  Sibyl  began.  "  I  ought  to  have  written 
to  you  sooner,  but  I  was  so  bewildered  at  the  first  mo- 
ment that  I  had  not  the  courage  to  finish  a  letter  I  had 
just  begun  to  you. 

"I  told  you  that  Marguerite  showed  the  strangest 
reluctance  to  go  to  Italy  when  everything  was  settled. 
It  puzzled  us  all.  She  was  very  nervous  and  quite  mis- 
erable, but  gave  no  explanation  of  her  sudden  change. 
At  last,  one  morning  before  1  was  up,  she  came  into  my 


100  JVarJca. 

room,  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  my  bed,  and  said:  'I  have 
something"  to  say  that  will  be  a  surprise,  and  I  fear  a 
disappointment,  to  you.  I  can't  go  with  you  to  Italy. 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  be  a  Sister  of  Charity.'  I 
was  so  taken  aback  that  I  could  not  speak  for  a  moment, 
but  just  stared  at  her  as  if  she  had  gone  mad.  '  I  have 
been  thinking  about  it  for  a  long  time,'  she  went  on, 
'  and  I  am  now  quite  sure  it  is  my  vocation.  The  idea 
of  going  to  Rome  and  seeing  the  Holy  Father  tempted 
me  at  first ;  but  I  soon  saw  it  was  only  a  temptation,  and 
that  I  must  not  yield  to  it;  so  instead  of  going  oflf  with 
you  and  Gaston,  I  am  going  to  the  Rue  du  Bac  to  make 
my  novitiate.'  I  really  did  think  that  the  child  had  gone 
out  of  her  mind.  'Why,'  I  said,  'you  will  be  dead  in 
a  month;  the  hardships  of  the  life  will  kill  you.'  She 
laughed,  and  said,  '  Oh  no;  I  jiromise  you  not  to  be  dead 
before  two  mouths;  you  will  be  back  in  time  to  see  me 
alive.'  I  did  not  know  whether  to  burst  out  crying  or 
to  be  Tery  angry.  She  looked  so  sweet  and  bright,  and 
yet  there  was  something  so  unnatural  in  the  idea  of  her 
doing  such  a  thing.  Oh,  Narka,  if  you  could  have  seen 
the  expression  of  her  eyes,  those  clear  brown  eyes  of  hers, 
when  she  went  on  to  talk  about  the  happiness  of  giving 
her  whole  life  to  God,  and  making  atonement  for  those 
who  offend  Him !  The  idea  of  atonement  seems  to  have 
taken  hold  of  her  like  an  idee  fixe.  I  said  that  if  she 
had  had  a  wicked  father,  or  if  any  one  belonging  to  her 
had  committed  a  crime,  I  could  understand  it ;  then  there 
would  be  some  sense  or  some  show  of  reason  in  her  put- 
ting on  a  stuff  gown  and  burying  herself  in  slums  and 
hospitals ;  but  she  said  that  every  sinner  was  her  brother, 
and  she  felt  a  call  to  suffer  and  atone  for  them.  In 
fact,  she  has  atonement  on  the  brain. 

' '  She  asked  me  to  break  the  news  to  Gaston.     I  was 


Narha.  101 

quite  ill  tit  the  thought  of  having  to  do  it.  I  have  such 
a  horror  of  seeing  anybody  in  pain,  above  all,  any  one 
I  love.  However,  it  had  to  be  done.  He  cried  like  a 
child,  dear  Gaston.  But  he  was  not  at  all  as  shocked  as 
I  expected.  He  said  if  it  was  her  vocation  he  would 
not  lift  a  finger  to  hold  her  back.  He  talked  like  a  the- 
ologian about  people  being  'called  to  the  religious  life.' 
I  never  could  have  believed  Gaston  knew  so  much  about 
theology;  but  Frenchmen  are  so  strange;  they  are  full 
of  conti'adictions.  I  was  so  upset  by  all  these  emotions 
that  I  had  to  keep  lying  down  all  the  afternoon,  with 
comi^resses  of  eau  sedative  on  my  head ;  and—" 

Narka  at  this  point  let  the  letter  drop,  and  interlacing 
her  long  white  fingers,  she  straightened  up  her  arms 
above  her  head,  and  heaved  a  great  gasp  of  relief.  It 
was  not  for  herself  that  she  was  relieved.  Oh  no !  it  was 
for  Marguerite.  Gentle,  sensitive  little  Marguerite,  who 
had  escaped  from  a  cruel  ordeal.  Loving  Basil  as  she 
did,  it  would  have  been  torture  to  the  child  to  be  thrown 
into  constant  companionship  with  him,  to  be  the  object 
of  his  brotherly  solicitude,  to  be  forced  under  the  charm 
of  his  sympathetic  nature,  a  charm  that  no  one  came 
near  Basil  without  succumbing  to.  How  could  she  have 
endured  this  for  two  whole  months  and  not  gone  out 
of  her  mind  ?  Narka  lay  back  for  a  long  moment,  con- 
sidering the  danger  and  the  pain  that  Marguerite  had 
been  saved.  This  improvised  vocation  was  of  course 
a  stratagem  to  escape  fi'om  an  intolerable  trial.  They 
might  safely  let  her  go  to  the  Rue  du  Bac  during  their 
tour  to  Italy ;  they  would  find  on  their  return  that  the 
vocation  had  come  to  an  end.  Narka  smiled  as  she 
thought  of  Marguerite  giving  up  her  flowers  and  dainty 
coquettish  toilets  for  the  gray  gown  and  the  cornette. 
But  as  she  smiled  she  felt  a  sudden  i^rick  of  remorse  and 


102  JSIarJM. 

doubt.  Could  it  be  that  the  idea  of  offering  up  her  young 
life  in  atonement  had  become  an  idee  fixe  strong  enough 
to  impel  her  to  the  sacrifice  ? 

Narka  would  not  dwell  on  this  possibility.  There 
was  another  letter  of  Sibyl's  to  be  read.  She  opened  it 
with  a  pleasant  anticipation  of  interest. 

"Here  we  are,  with  ilexes  and  oranges  making  a  back- 
ground to  the  loveliest  villa  you  can  iinagine!  The 
roses  are  scenting  the  air  till  the  sweetness  makes  one 
tipsy.  If  only  you  were  here  to  enjoy  it  with  us,  my 
Narka !  No  delight  is  complete  to  me  without  you.  You 
would  find  out  so  many  beauties  that  I  can't  see,  and  you 
would  sing  all  this  exquisite  idyl  to  me  with  that  heaven- 
ly voice  of  yours  !  Well,  some  day,  please  God,  we  shall 
see  it  together. , . .  We  had  a  most  comfortable  journey, 
and  already  Marguerite  looks  better  for  the  change. 
Oh !  I  forgot  I  had  not  written  to  you  since  I  told  you  of 
the  bomb-shell  she  threw  at  us  about  her  vocation. 
Well,  after  a  week  spent  in  pleading  and  coaxing,  ap- 
pealing to  her  love  for  us,  to  every  motive  that  could 
move  her,  the  matter  was  decided  by  the  Superioress  of 
the  white  cornettes,  a  most  fascinating  woman,  and  a 
saint  (Gaston  says,  who  had  several  long  talks  with  her). 
She  told  Mai"guerite  that  it  would  be  better  in  every  way 
for  her  to  come  away  for  the  change,  because  the  doctor 
of  the  community  was  in  great  doubt  whether  her  lioalth 
would  prove  equal  iu  its  ])resent  state  to  the  hardships 
of  the  life;  consequently  the  wisest  thing  would  be  to 
get  up  her  strength  before  she  made  the  trial.  Margue- 
rite was  greatly  disappointed  at  first,  but  after  a  day  or 
so  she  seemed  to  take  a  more  cheerful  view  of  things, 
and  was  quite  satisfied  to  come  away.  And  you  can't 
imagine  how  much  better  she  already  looks — so  .nuich 
less  pale  and  languid-.     She  is  in  excellent  spirits. 


Ncirka.  103 

"M.  Charles  joined  us  at  Naples.  We  were  all  de- 
lighted to  meet.  He  is  very  thin,  and  looks  a  good  deal 
older;  but  his  health  is  good.  We  do  our  best  to  cheer 
him,  and  he  is  so  happy  to  have  us  near  him !" 

Narka  did  not  see  what  more  Sibyl  wrote.  The  re- 
action from  the  intense  elation  of  the  first  letter  to  the 
disappointment  of  this  made  her  feel  sick.  She  sat,  with 
the  two  letters  in  her  lap,  in  a  kind  of  half  stupor.  Her 
mother's  voice  calling  to  her  made  her  start  as  if  she  had 
been  asleep,  in  a  bad  dream.  Madame  Larik  knew 
that  letters  had  come,  and  was  impatient,  of  course,  to 
hear  all  about  them.  Narka  stood  for  a  moment  to  re- 
cover her  self-possession,  and  make  up  her  mind  how 
much  she  should  tell.  Perhaps  it  was  best  to  read  the 
letters  as  they  were.  There  was  nothing  in  them  that 
she  need  conceal,  and  the  mere  communicating  of  their 
contents  would  be  a  relief. 

She  went  down  to  the  sitting-room,  and  read  them 
aloud,  and  found  Madame  Larik  a  most  responsive  lis- 
tener. 

"What  nonsense  to  talk  of  being  a  Sister  of  Charity! 
The  pretty  young  creature!  Of  course  there  is  a  love 
affair  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Why  does  not  Princess  Sibyl 
find  it  out  and  settle  it  V 

"But  you  hear  what  M.  de  Beaucrillon  says?  He 
would  not  oppose  her  entering  the  convent  in  the  least." 

' '  Then  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  I  thought 
better  of  the  Count.  He  was  exceedingly  polite  to  me. 
I  suppose  it  is  some  great  noble  who  has  no  money, 
or  who  has  more  than  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  Prin- 
cess Sibyl  told  me  that  the  marriages  in  France  are 
such  matters  of  business!  What  a  pity  she  and  our 
young  Prince  could  not  take  to  each  other !  Wlio 
knows  but  they  may,  now  that  they  are  going  to  be  to- 


104  Narha. 

gether  for  a  few  months?     I  can't  think  why  Prince 
Basil  did  not  fall  in  love  with  her  here." 

This  was  hard  to  hear  and  respond  to ;  but  Narka  felt 
it  was  not  so  hard  as  having  to  stifle  the  mention  of  the 
subject  altogether. 


Narha.  105 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  weather  had  improved,  the  wind  had  fallen,  and 
it  was  now  possible  to  get  out.  The  deep  snow  of  course 
put  riding  out  of  the  question;  Narka  regretted  this, 
for  she  was  a  perfect  horsewoman,  and  there  was  a 
favorite  Arab  of  Sibyl's  at  the  castle  which  was  always 
at  her  orders.  Her  fearless  command  of  the  strong,  spir- 
ited animal  that  bore  her  along  with  a  stride  as  swift  as 
a  hound's  gave  her  a  sense  of  power  that  was  exhilara- 
ting. While  she  was  in  the  saddle,  flying  through  the 
air  like  a  bird,  she  felt  like  a  prisoner  enjoying  a  mo- 
mentary escape  from  captivity.  The  flight  of  the  body 
seemed  to  liberate  the  spirit  and  give  her  breathing 
space.  In-doors  she  was  obliged  to  keep  strict  guard 
over  every  look  and  gesture;  she  had  to  keep  down  her 
very  thoughts  with  a  strong  hand  lest  they  should  find 
their  way  into  her  face,  and  betray  her  to  Madame 
Larik's  watchful  eyes.  This  constant  pressure  on  her 
life — that  inner  life  which,  to  Narka,  was  so  much  more 
vital  than  the  outward — made  her  sometimes  feel  as  if 
she  were,  like  the  rivers,  frozen  and  locked  up  in  ice. 
When  this  feeling  gi-ew  strong  she  would  take  out  the 
betrothal  ring  that  she  wore  round  her  neck  like  an 
amulet,  and  she  would  slip  it  on  her  finger,  and  recall 
every  woi*d,  every  caress,  of  Basil's  when  he  had  placed 
it  there,  until  her  spirits  rose  and  her  heart  expanded, 
and  she  could  look  forward  to  the  coming  spring,  when 
the  sun  would  shine  out  upon  her  life,  and  unlock  its 
fi'ozen  stream  and  set  its  waters  free. 


106  N'arka. 

The  next  best  thing  to  a  ride  was  a  clriv^e;  so  the  first 
day  the  weather  grew  genial  enough  to  admit  of  it  she 
sent  up  to  the  castle,  where  there  were  horses  and  vehi- 
cles of  all  sorts,  to  say  she  wanted  a  sleigh  that  after- 
noon.    It  was  at  the  door  at  the  hour  she  named. 

The  winter  landscape  was  beautiful.  The  cabins  and 
cottages,  sheeted  in  smooth,  hard  snow,  looked  like  mar- 
ble shrines  and  tombs,  from  which  the  smoke  curled 
up  in  blue  spirals,  like  incense  from  thuribles.  As  the 
sleigh  turned  into  the  forest  the  sun  shone  out,  and  the 
spectacle  was  so  dazzling  that  Narka  made  the  Cossack 
pull  up,  and  paused  to  admire  it.  The  wilderness  of 
white  trees  stretched  on  and  on  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  tossing  up  their  arms  in  every  fantastic  form 
against  the  sky;  every  bough  was  festooned  with  gar- 
lands of  snow  flowers,  or  laden  with  bunches  of  crystals 
that  sparkled  like  diamonds  in  the  sunlight.  The  forest 
might  have  been  a  cathedral  in  ruins,  so  profound  Avas 
the  silence.  Not  the  faintest  murmur  of  insect  life  dis- 
turbed the  deep  hush.  The  very  air  held  its  breath. 
Suddenly  a  bi*anch,  not  strong  enough  to  support  its 
mass  of  glittering  stalactites,  snapped  and  fell ;  the  crash 
broke  the  stillness  for  a  moment,  but  only  to  make  it 
seem  more  profound  the  next. 

There  was  something  very  impressive  in  this  death- 
like silence  of  the  white  solitude  that  held  so  many  se- 
crets buried  in  its  depths,  so  many  mysteries  that  would 
never  be  revealed  in  this  world.  The  forest  was  like 
the  sea,  it  seldom  gave  up  its  dead.  There  was  a  pile  of 
stones  on  the  spot  where  Larchoff  had  been  found.  It 
had  risen  slowly;  every  stone  that  went  to  the  heap  had 
been  flung  with  a  cui'se,  and  this  was  the  only  monu- 
ment whicli  had  been  raised  to  the  murdered  man.  As 
Narka  noticed  the  snow-ci*usted  trophy,  a  chill  crept 


Narka.  107 

over  liei".  Would  that  dark  secret  ever  be  revealed  ? 
TJie  thought  of  Father  Christopher  made  her  heart  sick, 
and  yet  she  could  not  deny  that  the  crime — or  the  acci- 
dent— might  have  been  followed  by  even  a  more  unbear- 
able sacrifice  than  his  cruel  captivity. 

She  told  the  Cossack  to  drive  on.  She  was  sorry  she 
had  stopped  ;  the  sight  of  that  mound  chased  away 
every  other  thought,  and  poisoned  the  pleasure  of  the 
drive.  The  sleigh  bounded  along  for  nearly  an  hour. 
Then  she  turned  homeward,  taking  another  road,  that 
led  past  Ivan  Gorff's  house. 

The  absence  of  Ivan  and  Sophie  was  a  great  loss. 
They  were  not  close  friends  ;  but  Narka  had  known 
them  all  her  life,  and  they  were  kind  and  pleasant 
neighbors.  Moreover,  Ivan  would  be  sure  to  have  news 
of  Basil.  Ivan's  resources  were  numerous,  sometimes 
mysteriously  so. 

As  the  sleigh  was  passing  the  gate,  Narka  was  sur- 
prised to  see  the  windows  of  the  first  story,  where 
Sophie's  I'ooms  were,  ope)i.  Could  the  Gorffs  have 
returned  ?  She  desired  the  Cossack  to  turn  in.  The 
gate  stood  open,  and  as  the  sleigh  flew  up  the  walk  to 
the  house,  she  saw  Ivan  at  a  window.  Before  they  had 
reached  the  door,  he  was  in  the  hall  waiting  for  her. 

"This  is  a  good  omen!"  he  said,  his  whole  counte- 
nance beaming  with  delightful  surprise.  "I  only  ar- 
rived an  houi-  ago.  I  was  just  going  to  see  you."  He 
was  radiant  with  pleasure,  but  his  face  wore  deep  traces 
of  sufFei'ing,  either  moral  or  physical ;  perhaps  both. 

"  How  are  you,  Ivan  ?"  said  Narka,  in  a  tone  of  kind 
anxiety  that  he  was  not  used  to  from  her. 

"I  am  well,"  he  answered,  with  a  shrug  of  his  broad 
shoulders;  "better  than  I  ought  to  be,  considering. 
Sophie  is  not  well." 


108  JSTarJca. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry!"  said  Narka,  feelingly.  "Is  it 
her  chest  ?" 

"Yes.  She  has  a  cough  that  shakes  her  to  pieces. 
It  is  always  in  my  ears  like  a  death-knell.  But  I  am 
a  fool.  She  is  better  out  of  the  world  than  in  it.  Have 
you  had  any  news  lately  ?"  he  asked,  turning  abruptly 
from  the  subject.  It  was  evidently  one  he  could  not 
bear  to  discuss. 

"  No.     Sibyl  is  afraid  to  give  me  much  news." 

"She  can't  be  too  careful,  or  you  either,"  Ivan  added, 
with  a  significant  nod.  "That  is  why  Basil  does  not 
dare  write.  Every  line  you  write  or  receive  is  read. 
He  is  in  good  health.  I  saw  him  ten  days  ago.  He 
was — " 

"Ten  days  ago !"  Narka  interrupted,  eagerly.  " How 
is  he  ?     What  is  he  doing  ?" 

"He  is  waiting,"  said  Ivan,  in  his  quiet  way.  "Have 
you  heard  about  his  confession  ?" 

"Confession?"  repeated  Narka,  and  she  changed 
color.      "No." 

"As  soon  as  he  heard  the  trick  they  had  played  him 
about  Father  Christopher's  i-elease,  he  wrote  to  the 
Prince,  telling  him  that  it  was  he  who  shot  Larchoff." 

"  What  ?— Basil  ?" 

"He  said  he  had  fired  on  him  by  mistake;  that  he 
would  have  acknowledged  it  at  the  moment,  but  he 
had  not  the  courage  to  declare  that  he  had  accident- 
ally taken  the  life  of  a  man  whom  he  was  known 
to  hate  —  to  be  on  bad  terms  with.  When  Father 
Christopher  was  accused,  he  thought  the  best  thing  to 
do  was  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg  and  sue  for  his  release. 
And  they  cheated  him  into  believing  he  had  made  it 
all  right." 

"And  then  what  did  the  Prince  do  ?" 


Narka.  109 

Ivan  gave  a  slow  smile.  "He  sent  him  word  tliat  his 
confession  came  too  late  to  do  any  good  to  Father  Chris- 
topher. Basil  might  have  known  this.  What  is  written 
is  written.  The  Prince  said  if  he  wanted  to  play  heroics 
he  might  come  back  and  give  him.self  up  as  the  mur- 
dei'er,  and  get  sentence  of  death  added  to  the  sentence 
that  was  ready  awaiting  him  for  his  other  misdemeanors. 
This  would  not  in  the  smallest  degree  help  Father  Chris- 
topher, but  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  do." 

' '  And  what  did  Basil  answer  ?" 

"  He  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Emperor,  telling  the  whole 
story,  and  pledging  his  honor  to  go  back  and  deliver 
himself  up  to  justice,  if  his  Majesty  would  sign  an  order 
for  the  father's  liberation." 

"Ohmy  God!.  ...Well?" 

"  I  never  could  have  believed  Basil  was  such  a  fool," 
continued  Ivan,  turning  his  face  to  Nai'ka,  with  his  slow 
smile,  and  his  eyes  brimming  over  with  hilarity.  ' '  What 
do  you  think  he  did  ?  He  guessed,  as  the  Prince  had  so 
manj^  good  friends  in  the  imperial  closet,  there  was  little 
chance  of  this  letter  being  allowed  to  reach  the  Emper- 
or's hands,  so  he  confided  it  to  the  servant  who  had 
brought  him  the  Prince's  letter,  and  gave  him  a  lot 
of  money  to  take  it  to  a  i^erson  in  St.  Petersburg,  who 
Avas  to  convey  it  to  the  Emperor.  Could  you  have  be- 
lieved Basil  would  be  such  a  fool  ?"  Ivan  seemed  quite 
to  enjoy  the  revelation  of  Basil's  foolishness. 

"  The  servant  did  not  deliver  the  letter?"  said  Narka, 
breathless  and  impatient. 

"He  did  deliver  it — to  the  Prince,  of  course." 

"  Ah  !     And  what  did  the  Prince  do  ?" 

"He  put  it  into  the  fire.     What  else  could  he  do ?" 

Narka  trieil  to  steal  a  deep  breath  unnoticed.  "I 
suppose,"  she  said,  ''one  could  not  expect  he  would 


110  Narha. 

have  done  otherwise."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "Did  Basil 
do  anything  after  this  ?" 

"  Basil,  in  due  course,  received  an  answer  from  Prince 

W ,  his  Majesty's  secretary,  informing'  him  that  his 

august  master  was  not  deceived  by  his  generous  subter- 
fuge for  saving  the  life  of  Father  Christoiiher  ;  and, 
moreover,  admitting  even  that  this  particular  charge 
against  Father  Christopher  was  false,  there  were  a  score 
of  others  proved,  some  that  would  have  hanged  him  had 
not  the  imperial  clemency  been  extended  toward  him  for 
the  sake  of  Prince  ZorokoflP.  After  this,  Basil  gave  up 
the  game.     He  had  played  badly,  luckily  for  himself." 

Narka,  in  her  heai't,  echoed  "luckily  for  himself." 
But  she  was  proud  to  know  that  Basil  had  done  his 
utmost  to  set  Father  Cliristopher  free,  even  at  the  sacri- 
fice of  his  own  liberty,  and  the  risk  of  his  life.  After  a 
pause,  she  said,  "Do  you  believe  Basil  shot  Larchoff  ?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Ivan. 

"You  think  he  accused  himself  to  obtain  the  Father's 
release  ?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Then  what  do  you  think?"  asked  Narka,  impa- 
tiently. 

"I  believe  he  thought  he  shot  Larchoff.  He  told  me 
he  fired  at  what  he  took  for  a  fox  crouching  behind  a 
tree ;  there  was  a  sound  of  sometliing  falling  with  a 
heavy  thud  on  the  dry  brambles,  but  as  it  was  growing 
dai'k,  he  did  not  care  to  grope  to  the  spot  and  examine 
his  game;  he  meant  to  tell  the  keeper;  but  when  he  got 
home  he  forgot  all  about  it,  and  it  was  only  when  the 
news  came  of  Larchoff 's  being  found  murdered  that, 
like  a  flash  of  lightning,  he  saw  he  had  shot  him." 

"It  looks  likely  enough,"  observed  Nax'ka  in  an 
undertone,  as  if  communing  with  herself. 


Narha.  Ill 

"If  it  liad  been  Larchoff,  he  would  have  cried  out, 
for  he  was  not  shot  dead;  he  did  not  even  lose  con- 
sciousness; he  was  sensible  to  the  last,  and  the  doctor 
said  he  had  been  bleeding  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and 
that  half  an  hour  earlier  he  would  still  have  had 
strength  most  likely  to  tell  evei'ything.  It  was  loss  of 
blood  that  did  for  him." 

"Then  who  do  you  suppose  shot  him?"  inquired 
Narka. 

Ivan's  big  shoulders  went  slowly  up,  and  then  slowly 
down.  "It  may  as  likely  have  been  Father  Christo- 
pher. The  wood  was  too  dark  for  any  one  to  take  aim 
with  safety;  but  everybody  was  on  the  qui  vive  about 
the  wolf,  and  anxious  to  get  the  reward  Basil  had  put 
on  the  brute's  head." 

"Father  Christopher  would  not  have  been  looking 
out  for  that;  and  he  did  not  cany  arms  when  he  went 
on  sick  calls,"  argu.ed  Narka. 

"Not  in  a  general  way.  But  there  was  the  wolf, 
remember.  I  don't  want  to  fasten  it  on  Father  Christo- 
pher," Ivan  continued,  turning  his  candid  glance  on 
her;  "I  only  want  to  show  that  it  was  as  likely  to  be 
his  doing  as  Basil's.  I  did  my  best  to  make  Basil  see 
this,  but  he  will  have  it  that  his  bullet  hit  Larchoff. 
And  he  accuses  himself  of  having  killed  Father  Christo- 
pher, as  well  as  Larchoff,  by  not  acknowledging  the 
accident  at  once.  If  I  had  not  come  in  the  nick  of 
time,  he  would  have  been  off  to  St.  Petersburg,  and 
given  himself  up  as  a  prisoner." 

' '  Oh !"  Narka  exclaimed,  with  a  shudder ;  ' '  that  ivoulcl 
have  been  madness." 

"  Stark  madness,  and  without  compensation  of  any 
sort.  In  the  first  place,  he  would  not  have  released  Fa- 
ther Christopher,  and  in  the  next  place  he  would  have 


112  Narka. 

ruined  Princess  Sibyl — probably  the  Prince;  the  prop- 
erty would  have  been  confiscated,  and  the  sin  of  the 
son  would  most  likely  have  been  visited  immediately  on 
the  father.  But  I  had  hard  work  to  make  Basil  see 
this." 

"But  you  did  make  him  see  it  ?" 

"Yes,  I  finally  did." 

"  How  did  you  hear  all  about  the  miscarriage  of  his 
letter?"  Narka  asked— "about  the  forged  answer  sent 
from  the  Emperor  ?" 

"Not  forged,  false;  the  letter  was  written  by  Prince 

W .     Prince  Zorokoff  told   me    the   story  himself 

when  I  went  to  him  to  St.  Petersburg  with  a  letter  from 
Basil." 

It  apparently  did  not  occur  to  Ivan  that  there  was  any- 
thing shameful  in  the  systematic  trickery  of  the  Prince, 
or  in  his,  Ivan's,  making  himself  a  tacit  accomplice  in  it. 
To  Narka  it  was  a  genuine  satisfaction,  an  intense  re- 
lief, to  learn  that  Basil  had  endeavored  to  undo  the 
Avrong  he  had  done,  and  to  feel  at  the  same  time  that 
Ivan  and  the  Prince  stood  between  him  and  any  future 
rash  proceedings  of  honor  and  remorse. 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  any  stay  here  ?"  she  asked. 

"No;  I  leave  to-morrow  morning." 

"  You  are  not  likely  to  see  Basil  soon  again  ?" 

"I  shall  see  him  at  Easter.  By-the-way,  he  gave  me 
a  letter  for  you,"  Ivan  said,  casting  about  for  his  pock- 
et-book, as  if  it  were  by  chance  he  had  remembered  it. 

"  And  to  think  of  your  not  telling  me  that  at  once  !" 
said  Nai'ka,  as  he  handed  her  the  precious  letter. 

' '  I  had  more  to  tell  you  than  Basil  has  put  in  his  let- 
ter; that  I'll  swear  to,"  replied  Ivan,  good-humoredly. 
"  Are  you  going  ?     Won't  you  wait  to  read  it  ?" 

"No;   it  has  waited  so  long,  it  can  wait  till  I  get 


Narka.  1 13 

home."  Narka  was  not  going  to  open  that  letter  before 
him,  and  run  the  chance  of  betraying  herself.  "Give 
my  love  to  Sophie, "she  said,  "and  ask  her  to  write  to 
me.  Write  to  me  yourself,  and  give  us  news  of  her; 
that  will  be  better." 

Ivan  accompanied  her  down-stairs,  and  assisted  her 
into  the  sleigh,  and  stood   watching   her  as  it  drove 
down  the  avenue  and  disappeared  along  the  road. 
8 


114  Narha. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Narka  went  straiglit  home,  and  hurried  up  to  hei' 
room,  locked  the  door,  and  took  out  Basil's  letter.  It 
was  not  a  long  one.     This  is  what  he  said: 

''You  have  not  misunderstood  my  silence.  It  was 
safest  for  you,  and  you  are  my  first  care  in  life.  It  was 
enough  for  each  of  us  to  know  that  the  other  was  well. 
Don't  lose  heart.  The  time  will  not  be  long,  please 
Heaven!  Let  this  hope  sustain  you,  as  it  does  me. 
Every  day  I  remember  our  last  moments  together.  I 
am  yours  forever,  through  life  aiad  death." 

It  was  a  cold  love-letter.  But  Narka  read  between 
the  lines  all  that  she  wanted  to  see  written  there,  and 
the  very  absence  of  any  terms  of  endearment  had  in  it 
a  strength  of  assurance  that  satisfied  her.  It  surprised 
her  a  little  that  Basil  should  not  have  confided  the  truth 
about  their  mutual  relationship  to  Ivan ;  but  she  quick- 
ly reminded  herself  that  this  contrast  between  his  re- 
serve toward  a  true  and  devoted  friend  and  his  absolute 
trust  in  her  was  only  a  new  proof  of  his  whole-hearted 
love.  "And  so  have  I  loved  you  all  my  life,"  he  had 
said  to  her  when  he  was  placing  liis  mother's  ring  on  her 
finger.  And  the  memory  of  those  words  thrilled  Narka 
with  such  a  great  joy  that  for  the  moment  fear,  doubt, 
anxiety,  every  feeling  but  perfect  trust  and  secure  hap- 
])iness  in  his  love  gave  way.  What  could  Sibyl  and 
Marguerite  and  all  the  world  togetlier  do  against  that 
love  which  had  grown  with  his  growth,  and  was  strong 
enough  to  make  him  trample  pride  and  every  worldly 


Narka.  115 

interest  underfoot?  Narka  kissed  the  letter  tenderly, 
put  it  into  her  pocket,  and  made  herself  ready  to  go 
down-stairs. 

By  the  time  she  had  taken  oft"  her  things  she  was  calm 
enough  to  meet  her  mother,  and  tell  her  of  the  vmex- 
pected  meeting  with  Ivan,  and  the  good  news  of  his 
having  seen  Basil.  This  gave  them  enougli  to  talk 
about  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Narka's  spirits  had  risen 
suddenly  to  overflowing  gayety,  and  when  that  evening 
slie  sat  down  to  the  piano,Madame  Larik  could  not  have 
coinj)ared  lier  voice  to  tlie  crying  of  a  soul  in  Purgatory. 
It  sounded  more  like  the  singing  of  one  of  the  blessed 
in  heaven,  so  thrilling  was  its  jubilation,  so  melting 
sweet  its  pathos,  filling  the  whole  house  with  melody, 
as  the  song  of  the  bird  overflows  its  cage  and  floods 
the  surrounding  air  with  music. 

And  yet,  for  all  she  was  so  happy,  Narka  slept  un- 
easily that  night.  She  had  lain  down  full  of  sweet 
thoughts  of  Basil,  but  when  she  fell  asleep  she  dreamed 
a  dreadful  dream  about  him.  He  came  to  fetch  her, 
she  thought,  and  they  drove  away  together.  The  sleigh 
flew  over  the  snow  for  miles  and  miles;  at  last  they 
stopped  at  a  stone  house  standing  in  the  wilderness, 
with  miles  of  snow  stretching  round  on  every  side. 
Basil  got  out  of  the  sleigh,  and  lifted  her  in  his  strong 
arras  into  the  low-roofed  house,  and  kissed  her,  and  dis- 
appeared. Then  she  found  herself  alone  with  a  man  in 
a  black  mask,  and  wearing  the  uniform  of  the  police ; 
he  stood  looking  at  her  in  silence  through  the  holes  of 
his  mask,  until  the  silent  stai'e  made  her  blood  run  cold  ; 
at  last  he  slowly  removed  the  mask,  and  she  beheld  the 
dead  face  of  Larchoft'.  The  horror  of  the  sight  awoke 
her. 

It  was  not  much  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  emotions 


116  Narka. 

of  the  day  should  have  been  followed  by  an  agitated 
night,  but  this  dream  was  so  vivid  that  it  left  her 
nervous  for  some  time  after  she  awoke. 

She  dressed  hei'self  quickly,  and  went  down  to  make 
the  coffee,  which  she  always  cax'ried  up  to  her  mother 
in  bed.  As  she  passed  the  entry  into  the  little  parlor 
there  was  a  ring,  and  presently  the  maid  ushered  in  a 
man  weai'ing  the  hated  uniform  of  the  police. 

"You  are  Narka  Larik?"  he  said,  with  the  abrupt 
directness  of  a  person  whose  business  can  dispense  with 
formality. 

"Yes,  I  am  Narka  Larik." 

"You  are  in  correspondence  with  Prince  Basil  Zoro- 
koff?" 

"No,  I  am  not." 

"You  are  kept  informed  of  his  plans,  and  he  left 
papers  in  your  keeping." 

"He  left  me  nothing,  and  I  know  nothing  of  his 
plans,"  Narka  answered,  meeting  the  sliarp  scrutiny 
of  the  police  officer  without  quailing. 

He  seemed  staggered,  she  thought,  by  lier  confident 
beai'ing. 

"Will  you  swear  to  tliat?"  he  demanded. 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  swearing,"  she  replied, 
with  quiet  hauteur.  "To  those  who  know  me  my 
word  suffices." 

"But  to  those  who  do  not  know  you  it  does  not  suf- 
fice," observed  tlie  officer;  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  long  flat  case,  opened  it,  and  disclosed  an  image  of 
St.  Nicholas.  "Swear  upon  that,"  he  said,  holding  it 
out  to  her.  "Swear  by  the  blessed  St.  Nicholas  that 
you  have  in  your  possession  no  papers  belonging  to 
Basil  Zorokoff." 

For  one  moment  Narka  hesitated.      For  one  moment 


Narha.  117 

conscience  staggered  back  from  the  dreadful  consum- 
mation; her  tongue  was  held,  as  the  murderer's  finger 
is  held  on  tlie  trigger  before  he  pulls  it;  red  lightnings 
danced  before  her;  then  everything  was  a  blank.  She 
laid  her  hand  on  the  icon,  and  said,  ''''  I  swear  it.'''' 

The  officer  deliberately  closed  the  case  and  put  it  back 
into  his  pocket.  "Another  time  I  will  take  your  word," 
he  said,  with  a  cruel  smile.  "  You  have  perjui'ed  your- 
self, and  you  are  my  prisoner.     Come !" 


118  NarJca. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  de  Beauci'illons  were  at  Naples. 

M.  de  Beaucrillou  had  gone  for  a  cruise  in  a  friend's 
yacht,  and  Basil,  who  was  staying  at  a  hotel  close  by, 
had  come  to  accompany  Sibyl  and  Marguerite  in  their 
afternoon  ride.  Just  as  the  party  were  about  to  start, 
however,  Sibyl  was  seized  with  a  shivering  fit,  and  said 
she  had  taken  a  chill,  and  would  stay  at  home.  Mar- 
guerite declared  she  did  not  in  the  least  mind  giving 
up  the  ride,  and  was  quite  ready  to  stay  with  her;  but 
Sibyl  scouted  the  notion  of  this,  and  insisted  on  her 
going  for  her  ride  with  Basil.  Marguerite,  reluctant  to 
leave  her,  and  shrinking  a  little  from  the  long  tete-a-tete 
with  Basil,  gave  in,  as  everybody  did  to  Sibyl,  and  the 
two  set  out  together. 

Sibyl  watched  them  fi'om  th6  window  as  they  mount- 
ed and  rode  away,  and  said  within  herself,  impatiently, 
"If  he  has  any  sense  he  will  have  decided  his  own 
future  and  Marguerite's  before  I  see  them  again." 

Basil  suspected  that  the  chill  had  been  invented  in 
order  to  provide  him  precisely  with  this  opportunity,  and 
it  annoyed  him.  Sibyl  had  done  her  utmost  to  induce 
him  to  pay  his  court  to  Marguerite,  and  cure  her  of  the 
silly  delusion  about  her  call  to  be  a  Sister  of  Charity; 
but  Basil  had  positively  refused  to  make  any  such  at- 
tempt. "  If  she  has  set  her  heart  on  a  grand  ideal,"  he 
said,  "I am  not  such  a  fop  as  to  imagine  I  could  turn  her 
from  it  by  making  love  to  her." 

His  manner  toward  Marguerite  was  perfect — a  mix- 


Karha.  119 

ture  of  chivalrous  respect  and  brotlier-like  familiarity — 
and  it  irritated  Sibyl  the  more  because  she  could  not 
find  any  fault  with  it.  It  had  seemed  to  her,  however, 
that  within  the  last  few  days  Basil  showed  signs  of  fall- 
ing, unconsciously  perhaps,  but  unmistakably,  under 
the  spell  of  Marguerite's  charm,  and  she  was  deter- 
mined to  give  him  every  opportunity  of  becoming  hope- 
lessly enslaved.  To-day,  how^ever,  the  chill  had  been 
an  honest  chill ,  though  it  served  her  purpose. 

But  the  manoeuvring  did  not  further  her  designs. 
The  ride  was  a  success  as  a  ride,  but  an  absolute  failure 
as  an  opportunity  for  flirtation,  or  even  conversation. 

On  returning  to  the  hotel  they  found  that  Sibyl  was 
in  her  room.  She  had  grown  rapidly  worse,  and  the 
doctor  had  been  sent  for,  and  ordered  her  to  bed  at  once. 
She  sent  word  that  Basil  was  to  stay  and  dine,  and  she 
hoped  after  an  hour  or  two's  rest  to  be  better,  and  able 
to  see  him  in  the  evening.  This  was  all  very  clever, 
but  Basil  was  not  duped  by  it;  it  annoyed  him,  and  he 
would  have  gone  back  to  dine  at  his  hotel  if  he  had 
not  been  afraid  it  might  have  seemed  to  Marguerite 
rude  or  stupid.  So  they  dijied  alone.  After  dinner 
Sibyl's  maid  came  to  say  that  Madame  la  Comtcsse  had 
a  frightful  headache,  and  could  not  see  either  of  them. 

Basil  went  aAvay  about  nine  o'clock.  It  was  the  end 
of  Januai'y,  but  the  weather  was  balmy  as  if  it  had 
been  September.  The  sky  was  deep  blue,  and  full  of 
stars,  Orion  prominent,  striding  across  the  zenith  with 
his  glittering  belt  and  his  sword  and  his  dogs.  Basil 
wondered  whether  he  was  shining  more  brilliantly  in 
the  Northern  skies  at  Yrakow  than  here  at  Naples,  and 
whether  Nai'ka  was  looking  at  the  same  constellations 
from  her  window  amid  the  snow.  He  thought  a  great 
"deal  about  Narka.     Since  Marguerite's  arrival  she  was 


120  Narka. 

seldom  out  of  his  mind.  The  loyalty  of  his  nature  was 
in  arms  to  protect  her  rights  from  the  peril  of  Margue- 
rite's presence.  He  said  to  himself  a  score  of  times  a 
day,  "She  is  a  noble  woman,  she  loves  me,  and  I  owe 
her  my  life."  Narka  might  have  looked  into  his  heart 
all  the  day  long  and  not  detected  one  disloyal  throb 
there.  And  yet,  if  she  could  have  seen  how  sternly  his 
honor  was  mounting  guard  over  her  image,  it  might 
have  pained  her  more,  perchance,  than  a  passing  in- 
fidelity, for  which  a  warmer  love  would  have  quickly 
atoned. 

He  was  loath  to  go  in-doors,  the  night  was  so  glorious. 
He  sauntered  along  the  Chiaja,  listening  to  the  angry 
growl  of  Vesuvius,  and  watching  the  blue  waters  of 
the  bay,  so  calm  that  they  reflected  the  stars  like  a 
second  sky.  It  was  past  midnight  when  he  went  back 
to  his  hotel. 

Next  morning  he  was  dawdling  over  his  cofPee  when  a 
servant  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  room,  and  said  there 
was  a  gentleman  outside  wanting  to  see  him.  Basil, 
surprised  at  so  early  a  visit,  desired  him  to  be  shown 
in.  He  uttered  a  loud  exclamation  of  pleasure  on  be- 
holding Ivan  Gorff,  grasped  his  hand,  and  pushed  him 
into  a  chair,  laughing  and  rejoicing.  But  Ivan,  instead 
of  responding  in  his  usual  quiet  way,  remained  ominous- 
ly silent. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Basil,  in  quick  alarm. 
"My  father?" 

"He  is  well.  I  saw  him  four  days  ago.  But  there  is 
other  trouble.     Nai'ka  Larik  is  in  prison." 

Basil  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  cry,  and  then  dropped 
back  into  his  chair. 

Ivan  told  tlie  story  that  we  know. 

"It  was  a  providential  chance  that  I  heard  of  the 


Narka.  121 

arrest  at  all,"  he  added.  "I  was  to  have  left  early 
next  morning-  to  catch  the  first  train  from  X.,  but  I 
overslept,  and  missed  it,  so  I  went  out  to  see  the  Lariks, 
and  heard  what  had  happened  an  hour  before.  It  was 
pitiable  to  see  the  poor  mother ;  she  was  half  mad  with 
grief.  I  went  straight  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  told  the 
Prince.  He  was  terribly  distressed.  He  could  not 
have  been  more  shocked  if  Narka  had  been  his  daugh- 
ter. He  went  off  at  once  to  the  police  to  learn  where 
she  was,  and  then  to  the  Minister,  and  set  every  engine 
at  work." 

"  Where  is  she  ?" 

Ivan  hesitated.  "Well," he  said,  "you  will  have  to 
know.     She  is  at  Kronstadt." 

"Oh,  my  God!"  Basil  stood  up,  then  walked  the 
length  of  the  room,  muttering  to  himself,  '^^ Kronstadt ! 
Oh  God!  it  is  too  horrible.  Narka!  Narka!  why  was  I 
born  to  bring  this  horror  upon  thee  ?"  He  dropped  into 
a  chair,  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Ivan  waited  a  moment  to  let  the  first  violence  of  his 
agitation  spend  itself  before  he  spoke.  "You  did,  then, 
leave  papers  in  her  keeping  ?" 

"  I  did — curses  on  me  for  a  blind  fool !"  Basil,  with 
a  strong  effort,  mastered  his  emotions.  "Did  the  police 
find  them  fii'st  ?"  he  asked,  "or  did  they  foi'ce  hei'  to 
give  them  up  ?" 

"They  did  neither.  They  turned  the  cottage  inside 
out,  but  they  found  nothing  ;  and  Narka  denied  that 
she  had  anything  belonging  to  you.  She  had  stuck  to 
that  denial  when  I  came  away.  They  got  nothing  out 
of  her  after  ten  days  in  Kronstadt.     The  Prince — " 

Basil  put  up  his  hand  with  a  quick  gesture,  as  if  to 
stop  Ivan  from  saying  something  that  he  could  not  bear. 

"  I  was  going  to  say,"  continued  Ivan,  "that  she  has 


122  NarTca. 

suffered  nothing  worse  than  imprisonment  so  far.  The 
Prince  has  managed  that,  and  he  will  keep  on  paying 
to  prevent  it." 

Basil  drew  a  deep  breath.  ' '  I  must  at  all  risks  go  at 
once  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  see  my  father,  and — " 

' '  That  would  be  madness,  and  it  would  not  help  Nar- 
ka,"  interrupted  Ivan. 

"  Listen,"  said  Basil.  And  he  related  rapidly  the  his- 
tory of  his  threatened  danger,  his  escape  through  Nar- 
ka's  assistance,  and  his  troth  plighted  to  her  before  they 
parted. 

Ivan's  round  blue  eyes  grew  rounder  as  he  listened. 
But  no  one  could  have  guessed  that  the  story  excited 
in  him  any  stronger  emotion  than  astonishment. 

"You  see,  at  all  risks  I  must  go,"  Basil  continned. 
"I  must  go  and  stand  by  her;  I  must  tell  my  father  the 
whole  truth,  and  ask  him  to  come  with  me  to  the  Emper- 
or and  obtain  her  instant  release." 

Ivan  laid  his  broad  hand  heavily  on  Basil's  shoulder. 
"Take  care  that  you  don't  close  the  pi-ison  door  on  lier 
irrevocably  by  overhaste  in  trying  to  open  it.  Your 
father  is  now  moving  heaven  and  eartli  in  her  interest ; 
but  do  you  think  if  he  knew  that  as  soon  as  she  was  free 
you  meant  to  make  her  Princess  Zorokoff,  he  would 
work  as  hard  for  her  release  ?  He  would  feel  it  his  first 
duty  to  himself  and  you  to  leave  her  safe  where  she  is. 
He  would  not  go  to  the  Emperor  and  sue  him  to  liberate 
a  low-born  Jewess  that  she  might  be  set  up  at  the  head 
of  the  Zorokoffs.  It  would  be  a  choice  of  sacrificing  her 
or  you.     Do  you  think  he  would  hesitate  ?" 

' '  When  he  hears  that  I  owe  her  ray  life  ?"  insisted 
Basil;  but  there  was  more  vehemence  than  conviction: 
in  the  way  he  said  it.  The  hard  logic  of  Ivan's  reason- 
ing fell  upon  him  like   the  blows  of  a  hammer;  his 


Narka.  123 

whole  will  rose  in  rebellion  against  it,  but  he  felt  that 
it  was  stronger  than  his  will.  "Then,  in  Heaven's 
name,  what  am  I  to  do  ?"  he  cried,  with  the  petulant  de- 
spair of  impotence. 

"Ask  Princess  Sibyl  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg  and  throw 
lierself  at  the  feet  of  the  Empress,  and  implore  her  to 
obtain  an  order  for  Narka's  release.  That  is  the  only 
thing  you  can  do  that  will  avail.  But  trust  me,  keep 
your  secret  as  close  from  the  Princess  as  from  your 
fatlier;  she  is  a  Zorokoff,  and  it  would  be  sacrilege  in 
her  eyes  to  set  the  coronet  of  her  house  on  the  head  of 
a  Jewess." 

Basil  winced.  He  felt  the  full  truth  of  this,  and  it  ex- 
asperated him  to  find  himself  powerless,  stopped  at  every 
turn  from  lifting  a  finger  for  the  woman  who  had 
saved  his  liberty,  and  been  herself  dragged  into  such 
trials  through  his  fault.  It  was  like  being  pinioned  in 
a  strait-waistcoat  and  forced  to  look  on  while  one  dear 
to  him  was  tortured. 

"I  will  go  to  Sibyl,"  he  said,  "and  you  will  tell  her 
what  has  happened." 

They  went  at  once  to  Sibyl's  house.  The  valet  met 
them  at  the  door  with  a  face  full  of  alarm.  "I  was 
coming  to  fetch  you,  Prince,"  he  said.  "Madame  la 
Comtesse  is  very  ill.     M.  le  Comte  has  been  sent  for." 

The  chill  had  been  no  pretence.  Sibyl  was  in  high 
fever,  tossing  on  her  pillow,  delirious. 


124  Narka. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  fever  ran  its  course.  Sibyl's  life  was  never  in 
actual  danger,  but  it  was  six  weeks  before  she  was  able 
to  leave  her  room,  and  then  nearly  a  month  elapsed  be- 
fore the  physicians  said  that  they  might  venture  to  tell 
her  of  Narka's  imprisonment.  Even  then,  though  Gas- 
ton broke  it  to  her  with  the  gentlest  precautions,  the 
shock  affected  her  health  seriously  for  some  days. 

Of  course  the  proposal  of  her  taking  the  journey  to 
St.  Petersburg,  with  such  excitement  awaiting  her  at  the 
end  of  it,  was  postponed  indefinitely.  The  typhoid  fever 
had  left  mischief  behind  it,  and  as  soon  as  she  was  strong 
enough  to  bear  the  fatigue  she  was  to  go  to  Schwalbach 
for  the  baths  and  waters. 

All  these  delays  were  terrible  to  Basil.  Without 
Ivan  he  could  not  have  borne  them.  But  Ivan  was 
a  staff  to  them  all.  He  lived  on  the  railway  between 
St.  Petersburg  and  Kronstadt  and  Naples,  taking  flying 
visits  to  the  Crimea,  where  Sophie  was  rapidly  fading 
away.  Owing  to  the  largess  he  scattered  with  royal 
generosity  to  the  greedy  wolves  at  the  fortress,  he  was 
able  to  obtain  many  alleviations  for  Narka,  and  to  con- 
vey written  messages  from  her  to  her  mother.  He  paid 
without  counting  wherever  there  was  a  man  to  be 
bribed  or  a  chance  secured. 

Marguerite  had  remained  with  Sibyl  up  to  the  present. 
Her  puri^ose  was  still  unshaken.  Basil's  companion- 
slii])  liad  not  made  her  falter,  and  after  the  severe  test 
of  many  months'  temptation  she  was  more  convinced 


JSFarka.  125 

than  ever  that  Heaven  called  liei*  to  renounce  all  things 
for  God's  sake,  and  for  the  service  of  the  poor.  Gaston, 
from  the  first,  had  not  attempted  to  oppose  her,  and 
when  Sibyl  Avas  pronounced  strong  enough  to  go  to 
Schwalbach,  Marguerite  bade  her  farewell,  and  returned 
to  Paris,  accompanied  by  her  brother. 

The  de  Beaucrillons  had  given  saints  to  the  cloister 
and  heroes  to  every  battle-field,  the  Church,  the  State, 
and  the  camp,  and  more  than  one  fair  virgin  face, 
shrouded  in  the  veil,  looked  down  on  Gaston  de  Beau- 
crillon  from  the  walls  of  his  ancestral  home.  The  mo- 
ment had  now  come  for  him  to  prove  that  the  high 
courage  he  had  inherited  from  a  knightly  race  had  not 
degenerated.  He  loved  his  young  sister  with  the  ten- 
derest  affection,  but  when  the  day  came  he  went  with 
her  to  the  Rue  du  Bac,  and  in  the  whitewashed  parloir 
that  has  so  often  seen  enacted  the  humble  but  divine 
drama  of  a  life's  sacrifice  the  brother  and  sister  kissed 
and  parted. 

Then  M.  de  Beaucrillon  rejoined  his  wife. 

Prince  Zorokoff  was  working  in  Narka's  behalf  with 
a  zeal  that  did  credit  to  his  heart,  but,  as  his  family 
well  knew,  this  particular  exercise  of  zeal  was  precisely 
what  best  suited  his  taste  and  capacity.  The  atmos- 
phere of  a  court  was  to  him  the  very  breath  of  heaven ; 
he  was  in  his  element  in  the  midst  of  its  intrigues  and 
ambitions;  the  splendid  and  awful  chances  which  made 
life  under  the  eye  of  a  despot  a  standing  lottei-y,  where 
the  prizes  were  wealth  and  titles  and  honors  and  mi- 
raculous rescues,  and  the  blanks  torture,  captivity,  exile, 
and  death,  were  to  this  loyal  Muscovite  exhilarating 
as  wine.  He  Avas  impatient  for  Sibyl  to  come  and  play 
her  part  in  the  present  drama,  and  exert  her  influence 
with  the  Empress,  which  would  be  creditable  to  him  as 


126  NarJca. 

well  as  serviceable  to  Narka.  Finding,  at  last,  that  in 
spite  of  his  urgent  appeals  M.  de  Beaucrillon  insisted 
on  his  wife's  carrying  out  the  doctor's  injunctions, 
without  sacrificing  one  bath,  the  Prince  resolved  to 
act  on  his  own  unaided  resources,  and  to  entreat  the 
Empress  himself. 

"  Our  sovereign's  birthday  is  approaching,"  he  wrote 
to  Sibyl,  ' '  and  I  will  petition  her  on  that  occasion  for 
Narka.  Her  Majesty  delights  to  bestow  happiness  at 
all  times,  but  more  especially  does  she  love,  in  her 
adorable  goodness,  to  make  this  auspicious  anniversary 
a  day  of  consolation  to  the  sorrowful,  and  of  rejoicing 
for  all  her  subjects." 

Nothing  in  Russian  life  and  character  puzzled  M. 
de  Beaucrillon  so  much  as  this  servile  worship  of  the 
Czar.  The  abject  tone  used  by  a  proud  nobleman 
like  Prince  ZorokoflF  in  speaking  of  the  despot  who  de- 
stroyed or  destituted  human  beings  with  no  more  com- 
punction than  the  mower  cuts  down  the  poppies  in  draw- 
ing his  scythe  through  the  grass  was  a  mystery  that 
Gaston  gave  up  trying  to  solve.  So  inveterate  was  the 
habit  of  slave-like  homage  in  tlie  Russian  mind  that 
even  when  writing  to  his  own  daughter  the  Prince's 
language  was  as  sycophantic  as  if  he  were  addressing  his 
imperial  master  in  person,  or  speaking  to  a  brother  cour- 
tier wlio  might  repeat  his  words.  And  the  way  Sibyl 
acquiesced  in  her  father's  blind  adoration  was  still  more 
incomprehensible. 

The  autocratic  regime  hud,  however,  its  redeeming 
point — it  was  exciting,  it  was  fruitful  in  emotions. 
They  were  generally  of  a  painful  kind,  but  a  joyful 
one  was  just  now  in  reserve  for  even  Gaston,  Sibyl 
had  nearly  completed  her  coui'se  of  baths  at  Schwal- 
bach,  and  was  making  ready  to  yet  out  for  St.  Peters- 


NarJca.  127 

burg,  when  slie  received  a  lettei'  from  her  fatlier  saying- 
the  Emperor  liad  pardoned  Basil,  and  appointed  him 
Chamberlain  to  the  Empress,  while  the  Empress,  on  her 
side,  had  implored  and  obtained  Narka's  release.  The 
Prince  was  on  the  point  of  starting  with  Ivan  GorflP 
to  Kronstadt  with  the  order  for  her  immediate  libera- 
tion, and  they  would  then  convey  her  back  to  Tante 
Nathalie  at  Yrakow. 

Sibyl's  joy  was  only  equalled  by  her  gratitud^e.  "I 
always  felt  certain  that  the  Emperor  would  grant  both 
petitions  if  they  were  properly  in-esented  to  him,"  she 
said,  crying  and  laughing  with  delight.  "Our  sweet 
Empress!  our  grand,  magnanimous  Emperor!  May 
their  goodness  bring  down  every  blessing  on  their 
heads!"  She  clasped  her  hands,  and  raised  her  drown- 
ed eyes  to  Heaven  in  devoutest  supplication. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  was  going  to  retort,  but  he  shut  his 
lips  tight,  with  a  widening  grimace  expressive  of  deter- 
mination to  keep  them  shut.  He  was  too  thankful  for 
the  cause  of  these  ardent  benedictions  to  sneer  at  his 
wife's  loyal  effusions;  but  what,  in  the  name  of  justice 
and  common-sense,  had  Narka  done  to  call  forth  this 
gratitude  to  the  Emperor  for  having  ordered  her  to  be 
let  out  of  prison  ?  Basil  had  misbehaved  himself, 
though  how  far  his  misconduct  deserved  the  severe  pun- 
ishment which  had  overtaken  him,  and  the  still  severer 
fate  that  he  had  escaped,  had  never  been  explained. 
But  Narka  on  some  vague  suspicion  had  been  thrown 
into  a  dungeon,  and  kept  there  five  months,  although 
the  active  searches  of  the  police  had  failed  to  produce 
anything  to  substantiate  the  smallest  charge  against 
her.  And  because  she  was  now  liberated  the  heavens 
were  to  break  and  rain  down  dew  upon  the  heads  of  the 
sweet  Empress  and  the  magnanimous  Emperor !    Truly 


128  Narka. 

it  was  strange  to  see  Sibyl,  tlie  child  of  a  freeborn 
French  mother,  so  completely  the  victim  of  inherited 
paternal  blindness  as  to  invest  the  caprice  of  an  irre- 
sponsible tyrant  with  the  character  of  divine  clemency. 
It  was  a  great  relief  in  every  way  that  the  journey 
to  St.  Petersburg  was  given  up.  M.  de  Beaucrillon  felt 
as  if  he  had  himself  been  let  out  of  prison  when  he  set 
his  face  toward  France,  with  the  prospect  of  respite,  for 
a  time  at  least,  from  those  sudden  catastrophes  and  hair- 
breadth escapes  which  made  life  within  breathing  dis- 
tance of  a  Russian  atmosphere  a  constant  gasp  and 
strain. 


Mifka.  129 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  YEA.R  had  gone  by  since  Nai-ka's  release  and  Basil's 
restoration  to  imperial  favor.  In  that  interval  many 
tilings  had  happened.  Madame  Larik  and  Sophie 
Gorff  had  died,  Sibyl  had  become  a  mother,  and  Mar- 
guerite de  Beaucrillon  had  passed  her  novitiate,  and  put 
on  the  gray  gown  and  vphite  cornette  of  a  Sister  of 
Charity. 

Narka,  after  her  mother's  death,  left  Yrakow  and 
went  to  Koenigsberg,  where  some  old  friends  of  her 
mother  resided.  She  took  with  her  nothing  but  her 
books  and  a  few  little  household  gods,  and  her  j)iano — 
Sibyl's  gift  to  her  before  her  marriage.  So  long  as  her 
mother  lived  she  liad  accepted  Prince  Zorokoff's  gen- 
erous kindness,  but  when  once  alone,  she  I'efused  to 
remain  a  jjensioner  on  his  bounty,  and  went  to  Koe- 
nigsberg, resolved  to  support  herself  by  giving  lessons 
in  singing. 

She  and  Basil  had  not  met.  His  request  for  a  pass- 
port and  short  conge  to  go  and  see  his  sister  was  met 
by  a  peremptory  refusal,  and  an  intimation  that  he  had 
better  not  repeat  the  demand  for  at  least  a  year.  He 
chafed,  but  submitted.  Rebellion  was  useless.  He  cor- 
responded regularly  with  Narka,  and  though  his  letters 
were  guarded  in  their  expressions,  Basil  being,  as  he 
was  aware,  under  close  surveillance,  he  was  able  to 
make  her  feel  that  she  was  his  chief  object  in  life.  He 
was  bitterly  distressed  at  not  being  able  to  repay  her 
even  a  portion  of  his  debt ;  but  the  Prince  never  had  a 
9  ♦ 


1 30  Narka. 

rouble  to  spare ;  he  was  hard  set  to  find  money  for  his 
own  extravagant  expenses,  and  to  supply  Basil  with  the 
means  of  keeping  up  the  costly  decencies  of  his  position 
at  court.  He  kept  him,  in  fact,  like  a  school-boy,  al- 
lowing him  to  run  up  what  bills  he  liked,  but  never 
giving  him  any  money. 

Narka  was,  however,  so  far,  in  no  straits.  She  had 
a  little  sum  from  the  sale  of  her  furniture  to  start 
with,  and  she  had  found  pupils  enough  to  keep  her  mod- 
erate wants  supplied.  The  sepai'ation  from  Basil  was 
her  great  trial.  But  though  she  suffered,  she  was  far 
from  unhappy.  She  loved  him,  and  she  believed  un- 
doubtingly  in  his  love  for  her.  She  was  therefore  like 
one  kept  waiting  at  the  gate  of  Paradise,  and  soon  to 
be  admitted  to  its  lovely  shade  and  sweet-scented 
alleys. 

Basil's  plan  was  by  patience  to  disarm  all  suspicion 
of  his  purpose,  and  then  obtain  a  passport  under  pre- 
tence of  going  to  see  Sibyl;  once  free,  he  would  marry 
Narka,  and  trust  to  his  father's  forgiving  him.  It  was 
a  vague  enough  plan,  but  it  was  the  only  one  that  held 
any  hope  of  accomplishing  their  union ;  so  Narka  was 
content  to  abide  by  it,  keeping  her  heart  quiet  with  bliss- 
ful dreams  of  the  future  that  each  day  drew  nearer  to 
her. 

Sibyl  had  written  affectionately,  offering  her  a  home 
after  Tante  Nathalie's  death ;  but  Narka  had  refused  to 
accept  it.  She  preferred,  and  she  knew  that  Basil  pre- 
ferred, that  she  should  remain  independent  of  Sibyl 
for  the  present.  She  gave,  however,  as  a  reason  for  her 
refusal  that  she  hoped  to  find  a  centre  of  work  very 
easily  at  Koenigsberg,  and  that  for  a  time  at  least  it 
would  be  better  for  her  to  be  occupied  and  amidst  new 
scenes  and  people.     Sibyl  assented,  and   agreed  that 


Narha.  131 

change  of  association  and  work  might,  indeed,  be  the 
best  thing  for  her,  after  all  that  she  had  gone  through. 
Narka  ought  to  have  been  satisfied,  but  so  inconsistent 
is  human  nature  that  it  sent  a  pang  through  her  heart 
to  see  Sibyl  acquiescing  in  her  reasons,  instead  of  con- 
tradicting and  trying  to  overrule  them. 

So  life  seemed  to  have  settled  down  into  a  very  nar- 
row groove  for  poor  Narka.  Sibyl,  evidently,  could  live 
without  her.  There  was  no  outlook  but  that  solitary 
one  toward  the  golden  gate  of  Paradise,  and  for  the 
present  this  seemed  blocked  by  a  mountain  of  obstacles. 

Not  many  months  after  her  arrival  at  Koenigsberg 
an  important  event  occurred:  Sibyl's  baby  was  born. 
Nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  Sibyl's  manner 
of  announcing  the  joyful  event  to  her.  "I  feel,"  she 
wrote,  "as  if  my  joy  in  him  would  not  be  complete 
until  I  see  my  baby  in  your  arms,  my  Narka.  Ah! 
does  the  future  hold  in  reserve  for  me  the  delight  of 
holding  your  baby  in  miy  arms  ?  I  believe  it  does,  ^na 
cherie.  I  believe  that  all  the  sorrow  that  has  gone 
before  was  a  preparation  for  some  great  happiness  in 
store  for  you." 

Narka  read  the  letter  many  times  over.  Did  Sibyl 
guess  ?  Or  was  it  her  own  overflowing  happiness  that 
made  her  pi'ophetic  ? 

Life  seemed  now,  indeed,  a  perfect  joy  for  Sibyl,  and 
her  letters  were  electric  in  their  communication  of  it. 
The  baby  was  a  little  magician  whose  wand  made  every- 
thing beautiful.  When  in  due  course  he  performed  the 
seemingly  unparalleled  feat  of  lisping  his  mother's 
name,  the  wonder  was  that  things  went  on  as  usual,  that 
the  sun  rose  and  set  just  as  if  nothing  extraordinary 
had  happened.  Sibyl's  great  anxiety  was  lest  Narka 
should  not  see  him  until  the  glory  of  his  infant  graces 


132  Narka. 

had  departed,  and  lie  sliould  have  entered  on  another 
phase  of  intelligence  and  fascination.  But  these  fears 
were  suddenly  dissipated  by  a  prospect  as  unexpected 
as  it  was  blissful  to  Narka. 

She  received  a  letter  from  Basil  telling  her  that  he 
was  appointed  to  the  post  of  Secretary  to  the  Russian 
Embassy  in  Paris,  and  was  to  enter  on  his  new  duties 
in  about  three  months.  Prince  Ki'insky,  the  newly 
named  Ambassador,  had  asked  for  him,  alleging  that 
Basil's  thorough  knowledge  of  European  languages 
would  make  him  a  valuable  auxiliary,  and  that  he  knew 
no  other  young  man  so  suitable  for  the  post. 

"My  father  is  very  pleased,"  said  Basil,  "though  the 
appointment  will  cost  him  a  lot  of  money.  He  has, 
however,  found  means  of  raising  it  at  once,  and  has 
been  so  generous  that  I  am  able  to  send  you  two  thou- 
sand roubles, which  the  bearer  of  this  letter  Avill  hand 
you  in  German  money.  You  will  go,  immediately  on 
receiving  it,  to  Paris,  and  there  await  my  arrival. 
Sibyl  will  want  you  to  go  to  her;  but  I  prefer  that  you 
should  not.  We  will  make  her  understand  the  reason 
soon.  I  am  in  hopes  tliat  things  will  favor  us  more 
readily  than  I  had  dared  expect.  Of  course  there  will 
be  a  great  row.  But  the  Empress  is  really  kind,  and  I 
count  on  her  support  to  bring  round  my  father.  That 
done,  we  shall  have  no  more  trouble.  The  Fates  seem 
as  if  they  were  going  to  be  good  to  us  at  last. 

' '  I  have  written  to  Ivan  to  go  and  accompany  you 
to  Paris.  He  will  find  a  nice  lodging  for  you,  and 
make  you  feel  less  lonely  on  arriving  in  the  strange 
place.  Sibyl  is  at  Biarritz,  which  is  just  as  well,  under 
the  circumstances.  Au  revoir  soon,  my  own  beautiful 
Narka.  Basil." 


Narka.  133 

Narka  could  hardly  believe  that  this  wonderful  news 
was  true.  Three  short  months,  and  Basil  would  meet 
her  and  make  her  his  wife!  Gladly  would  she  have 
started  that  same  hour  for  Paris,  so  eager  was  she  to 
obey  him  and  to  find  herself  in  the  city  where  he  ap- 
pointed to  meet  her;  but  it  is  only  people  in  the  story- 
books who  can  follow  instantaneously  the  dictates  of 
their  will,  and  put  into  execution  a  plan  the  moment 
it  is  formed.  Some  few  arrangements  were  necessary 
before  breaking  up  her  little  temporary  home,  and  a 
week  must  elapse  before  she  could  possibly  leave  Koe- 
nigsberg.  Meantime  she  must  write  to  Sibyl  and  an- 
nounce her  intended  departure.  Her  heart  beat  with  a 
new  deliglit  at  the  thought  of  meeting  Sibyl,  of  the 
welcome  she  would  receive  from  her. 

Singing  and  smiling  to  herself,  Narka  sat  down  to 
write.  It  was  only  when  she  took  the  pen  in  her  hand 
tliat  she  remembered  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  give 
the  true  reason  of  this  sudden  resolution  of  going  to  live 
in  Paris.  And  yet  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  give 
some  reason.  She  rested  her  chin  in  her  hand,  and  sat 
turning  the  pen  in  her  fingers,  considering  what  she 
could  say.  It  did  not  mvich  matter  what  reason  she 
gave,  provided  it  was  a  plausible  enough  one  to  satisfy 
Sibyl  for  the  moment.  After  long  deliberation  she  de- 
termined to  say  that  people  who  knew  assured  her 
tliat  her  talent  would  find  much  wider  scope  and  larger 
remuneration  in  Paris,  and  that  she  had  finally  made 
up  her  mind  to  follow  this  indication,  which  coincided 
with  the  longings  of  her  own  heart,  and  come  and  live 
within  reach  of  her  beloved  Sibyl's  companionship. 
Narka's  conscience  pricked  her  as  she  wrote  this  made- 
up  story,  but  the  next  moment  she  laughed  at  her 
scruples.      "I  will  tell  her  the  truth  soon  enough,"  she 


134  Narha. 

said  to  herself,  "and  meantime  I  must  do  what  Basil 
wishes." 

By  return  of  post  she  received  an  answer  from  Sibyl. 
With  a  pleasant  flutter  at  her  hungry  heart,  she  opened 
the  violet-scented  envelop  with  its  delicate  gold  cipher, 
all  so  suggestive  of  Sibyl,  and  read : 

"Oh,  my  Narka,  what  a  wonderful  surprise  this  is! 
What  a  delight  it  will  be  to  clasp  you  to  my  heart, 
and  gaze  into  those  beautiful  eyes  that  have  been  like 
two  fountains  of  love  and  sympathy  to  me  all  my  life ! 
And  then  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  boy  in  his  aunt 
Narka's  arms,  learning  to  love  her  and  tyrannize  over 
her !  But,  my  precious  one,  have  you  sufficiently  weigh- 
ed the  risks  you  run  in  leaving  your  present  home  for 
a  great  wilderness  like  Paris  ?  It  is  quite  true  your 
glorious  voice  and  your  rare  musical  genius  would  in 
time  secure  you  both  fame  and  fortune;  but  you  must 
first  be  known,  and  it  is  verj"-  uphill  work  in  this  great 
Paris  for  a  stranger  to  become  known.  I  hear  and 
see  a  good  deal  of  this  kind  of  struggle,  and  many  a 
time  when  I  have  been  watching  the  disappointments 
and  heart-sinkings  of  a  young  artist  the  thought  of  you 
has  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes,  and  I  have  thanked 
God  you  were  spared  the  misery  of  having  to  fight  the 
battle  of  life  under  such  cruel  conditions.  For  though 
lessons  are  no  doubt  paid  much  more  highly  here  than 
in  Koenigsberg,  the  necessaries  of  life  also  are  very 
much  dearer. 

"  Darling,  I  feel  it  is  kinder  to  tell  you  all  this  before 
you  take  a  step  which  may  lead  to  bitter  regret.  Of 
course,  if  you  decide  on  coming,  I  can  only  rejoice  self- 
ishly for  my  own  sake,  seeing  you  will  be  like  a  breeze 
of  sweet  air  from  Yrakow.     Ever  thine  own    Sibyl." 


Ncirka.  135 

If  Narka  had  been  asked  what  effect  this  letter  pro- 
duced on  her,  she  would  have  likened  it  to  a  sudden 
chill.  Yet  there  was  no  stint  of  tender  expressions  in 
it  from  first  to  last,  and  it  was  perhaps  inevitable  that 
Sibyl,  who  was  the  most  impractical  of  human  beings, 
should  be  scared  at  the  idea  of  one  like  Narka  coming 
to  try  her  fortune  in  a  place  like  Paris.  Sibyl  only 
realized  two  manners  of  existence — her  own,  gliding 
smoothly  through  broad,  flowering  meads,  and  that  of 
the  people  sweating  and  toiling  to  keep  her  chariot 
wheels  well  oiled;  she  had  no  practical  knowledge  of 
any  intervening  states.  Narka  repeated  these  reasons 
to  herself,  and  tried  to  take  comfort  in  dwelling  on  the 
caressing  endearments  that  were  sprinkled  througli 
Sibyl's  letter  like  dew-drops  over  the  dry  dust  of  her 
cold,  repelling  arguments. 


136  Narha. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Ivan  Gorff  arrived  punctually  at  Koenigsberg,  and 
proved  the  kindest  and  most  efficient  escort.  He  was 
one  of  those  rare  persons  whose  entire  simplicity  and 
selflessness  make  you  feel  perfectly  at  ease  ;  his  com- 
panionship imposed  no  effort;  he  exacted  nothing;  he 
only  asked  to  be  made  use  of.  Narka,  who  had  never 
cared  much  for  him,  suspecting  I'ightly  that  he  cared 
too  much  for  her,  had  grown  quite  fond  of  him  by  the 
end  of  the  tete-a-tete  journey.  It  was  like  having  a 
strong,  sagacious  dog  always  by  her  side,  on  the  qxd 
vive  to  do  her  bidding,  never  expecting  thanks,  but 
radiantly  happy  when  she  threw  him  a  bone  in  the 
shape  of  an  affectionate  smile  or  a  kind  word.  He 
never  alluded  to  her  relationship  to  Basil,  but  it  was 
borne  in  upon  her  that  he  was  aware  of  it. 

On  arriving  in  Paris,  he  found  her  very  pretty  lodg- 
ings in  the  Rue  Chaillot,  with  a  salon  that  overlooked 
gardens  and  beyond  them  the  river.  Ivan  thought 
them  expensive,  but  lie  made  no  observations;  that  was 
her  affair. 

Narka  was  soon  at  home  in  her  new  abode.  She 
had  that  gift  peculiar  to  some  women  of  making  beau- 
tiful any  i)lace  where  she  dwelt.  Her  rooms  were  very 
simply  furnished,  but  lier  grand  Plyel  piano,  covered 
with  its  Turkish  cloth,  a  rich  piece  of  Muscovite  em- 
broidery in  gold  and  silver  and  many-colored  silks, 
gave  an  air  of  splendor  to  the  salon;  llowers  and  plants 


JSfarha.  137 

set  on  every  available  spot  lent  it  an  aspect  of  refine- 
ment, and  books  spread  about  on  the  tables  suggested 
that  intellectual  interest  whicli  was  never  absent  where 
Narka  was.  She  took  pains  to  make  the  rooms  attract- 
ive, Basil  was  to  meet  her  here,  and  as  the  frame  sets 
oflP  the  picture,  so  would  she  borrow  some  additional 
charm  from  the  help  of  harmonious  surroundings. 

Sibyl  had  not  said  a  word  to  her  of  his  nomination 
to  the  Russian  Embassy.  "She  means  to  let  it  come 
on  me  as  a  great  surprise,"  thought  Narka,  with  a  plea- 
sant consciousness  of  being  herself  much  deeper  in 
Basil's  secret. 

Sibyl's  absence  from  town  at  this  juncture  was  rather 
a  relief;  but  Narka  was  impatient  to  see  Marguerite, 
and  her  first  expedition  was  to  the  Rue  du  Bac.  She 
learned  to  her  disapx^ointment  that  Sceur  Marguerite 
had  been  sent  to  Havre  a  month  ago,  and  it  was  quite 
uncertain  when  she  would  return. 

Narka  found  herself,  consequently,  as  much  alone 
in  Paris  as  if  she  had  strayed  into  the  Sahara;  for  Ivan 
Gorff,  as  soon  as  he  had  done  everything  that  was  with- 
in his  power  for  her,  went  back  to  Russia. 

The  weather  was  intensely  cold;  the  winter  was  an 
exceptionally  severe  one;  and  Narka  now  understood 
Sibyl's  appai'ently  incredible  assertion  that  in  Paris  the 
cold  was  more  cruel  than  in  Russia.  In  Russia  you 
were  protected  against  it  by  thick  walls,  and  fires  that 
were  like  furnaces ;  but  here  in  Paris  the  wind  that 
blew  with  a  shrill  blast  from  the  north  pierced  the 
thin  walls,  too  porous  to  keep  it  out,  and  whistled 
through  chinks  in  the  doors  and  windows,  until  it  seem- 
ed to  blow  as  hard  indoors  as  out.  Narka,  who  had 
not  yet  found  out  Avhat  a  costly  luxury  a  good  fire  was 
in  Paris,  piled  on  the  logs  in  her  three  rooms  unspar- 


138  Narha. 

ingly.  She  spent  her  time  between  singing  and  read- 
ing and  dreaming,  and  fought  against  the  cold  with  a 
blazing  hearth. 

So  one  month  sped  away.  She  was  at  the  piano 
one  morning,  singing  a  Russian  ballad,  when  the  door 
of  the  salon  opened,  then  closed.  Narka  took  no 
notice,  thinking  it  was  Eudoxie,  her  bofi7ie,  with  the 
newspaper;  but  when  she  finished  her  song  some  one 
cried,  "Brava!  brava!"  and  before  she  had  time  to 
turn  round,  two  arms  were  hugging  her  backwai'd, 
and  a  face  under  a  stiff  white  head-gear  was  pressed 
against  hers. 

"Marguerite !"  Narka  stood  up,  and  returned  the  ca- 
i*ess  with  genuine  delight. 

These  two  had  often  wondered  how  it  would  be  when 
they  met;  whether  the  memory  of  those  last  days  at 
Yrakow,  so  jjregnant  with  events  which  had  influ- 
enced the  destinies  of  both,  would  come  between  them 
like  a  presence.  And  now  they  met,  and  Marguerite 
was  looking  up  into  Narka's  face  with  eyes  full  of  wist- 
ful tenderness,  and  unabashed  simplicity,  and  the  in- 
nocent gladness  of  a  child.  But,  with  that  intuition 
which  sometimes  belongs  to  children,  she  saw  that  the 
memory  of  those  days  had  rushed  upon  Narka  with  a 
kind  of  poignant  consciousness. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  still  looking  up  with  her 
bright  brown  eyes,  "  I  feel  as  if  we  were  a  pair  of  ghosts 
meeting  in  the  other  world." 

"We  are  in  another  world  than  the  one  we  parted  in," 
replied  Narka;  "  I  believe  we  both  of  us  died  a  death  at 
Yrakow  before  we  left  it." 

"But  we  came  to  life  again,  didn't  we?"  asked  Mar- 
guerite, eagerly. 

"I  supi^ose  we  must  have,"  replied  Narka;  "though 


JSFarka.  139 

you  don't  look  a  bit  like  a  person  who  liad  ever  been  dead 
and  buried." 

They  sat  down  near  the  fire ;  Narka  threw  on  a  fresh 
block,  and  made  a  hospitable  blaze. 

"  How  pretty  your  room  is,  and  what  a  splendid  view 
of  the  sky  you  have !"  said  Marguerite,  glancing  toward 
the  windows,  and  round  at  the  flowers  and  the  home- 
like touches  visible  everywhei*e.  Then,  with  a  sudden 
change  from  gay  to  grave,  "  Oh,  dear  Narka,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "  what  you  have  suffered  since  we  met !  Many 
a  time  I  have  wondered  how  you  lived  through  it." 

"Yes,  it  is  wonderful  what  we  can  live  through,  some 
of  us.     I  must  be  very  hard  to  kill,  I  su^jpose." 

"That  time  in  the  prison!  The  very  thought  of  it 
turned  life  into  a  horrible  dream.  I  used  to  go  about 
my  work  as  if  I  were  in  a  nightmare.  Dear,  I  do  be- 
lieve that  I  prayed  for  you  with  every  bx'eath  I  drew 
all  those  dreadful  months." 

Narka's  features  contracted  with  pain-,  she  opened  her 
lips  as  if  to  speak,  but  they  quivered  and  closed  again. 
After  wrestling  for  a  moment  with  herself,  "Perhaps 
it  was  those  prayers  that  kept  me  from  going  mad," 
she  said,  "for  it  was  like  being  in  hell.  I  never  look 
back  at  it.  If  I  did,  even  now,  it  would  send  me  out  of 
my  mind."  Then,  seeing  her  own  shuddering  horror 
reflected  in  Marguerite's  face,  "Let  us  not  talk  about 
it,"  she  said.  "Tell  me  about  yourself.  You  look 
much  stronger  than  you  ever  did  at  Yrakow,  and  you 
look  so  happy !" 

' '  I  am  so  happy !" 

"Are  you,  dear?  Well,  I  suppose  the  martyrs  on 
the  rack  would  have  said  they  were  very  happy  if  the 
pagans  had  questioned  them." 

Marguerite  laughed.      "I  can't  tell  what  the  martyrs 


140  Narha. 

would  have  said,  not  being  one  myself,  any  more  than 
you  are  a  pagan.  I  only  know  that  I  am  as  happy  as 
the  day  is  long." 

"And  you  regret  nothing?" 

"  Nothing  on  this  earth !"  She  opened  out  her  hands, 
palms  upward,  with  an  emphatic  gesture. 

"Yet  the  life  you  are  leading  is  that  of  a  common 
servant!"  Narka  said,  in  a  tone  of  incredulity.  "Sibyl 
told  me  the  Sisters  themselves  described  the  hardships 
as  dreadful." 

"They  exaggerated  the  hardships — they  always  do; 
what  they  never  exaggerate  is  the  happiness.  I  don't 
believe  any  one  in  this  world  could  be  happier  than  I 
am.  I  would  not  exchange  my  lot  with  the  most 
envied  one  on  earth." 

"Thank  God!"  Narka  murmured,  almost  involun- 
tarily. There  was  a  moment  of  sudden  consciousness 
to  both,  and  then,  by  a  common  impulse,  the  two  wo- 
men bent  forward  and  kissed  each  other. 

"It  is  wonderful  to  hear  you  say  that.  Marguerite," 
Narka  said,  as  if  this  tacit  understanding  had  set  her 
free  to  enter  frankly  on  the  subject.  "How  can  you 
like  being  a  peasant,  and  carrying  burdens  on  your 
shoulders  all  day  ?" 

"  I  love  the  burdens,  and  love,  you  know,  makes  every 
thing  light  and  easy." 

"Your  old  theory.  But  for  all  the  love  in  the  world 
there  are  things  that  you  must  miss — music  that  you 
were  so  fond  of,  and  flowers  that  you  so  delighted  in. 
How  you  used  to  revel  in  the  winter  garden  at 
Yrakow !" 

"Yes;  but  I  don't  miss  anything.  I  am  quite  satis- 
fied with  the  music  in  church  on  Sundays,  and  the  can- 
ticles the  children  sing  in  the  school ;  and  I'm  not  sure 


,  JSTarka.  141 

that  a  hospital  ward  or  a  sick-room  is  not  as  good  as 
a  garden  to  me." 

Narka  held  up  her  hands.  "It  all  sounds  so  un- 
natural!" 

"So  it  would  be  if  it  were  not  my  vocation.  That  is 
what  makes  it  natviral  and  delightful." 

"I  could  understand  it  in  a  measure  if  all  this  dis- 
comfort and  sacrifice  on  your  side  lessened  the  misery 
of  the  world,"  said  Narka;  "hut  it  doesn't;  it  never 
will;  the  cruelty  of  life  will  remain  just  as  universal 
for  all  your  sacrifice;  you  will  never  do  away  with 
suffering." 

"God  forbid!  What  would  become  of  the  world  if 
suffering  were  done  away  with  ?  There  would  be  an 
end  of  heroism,  of  so  much  that  makes  life  beautiful. 
Suffering  is  the  salt  that  keeps  human  nature  from  cor- 
rupting. Besides,  salt  or  not,  it  is  the  law,  and  there  is 
no  escape  from  it.  But  it  is  not  the  svxffering  itself  that 
is  so  bad ;  it  is  the  revolt  against  it.  Human  ^lature  is 
in  rebellion  against  suffering,  just  as  science  is  against 
pain.  And  it  is  a  vicious  circle  from  which  there  is  no 
escaping — the  more  science  rebels  against  physical 
pain,  the  more  moral  pain  increases.  If  people  did  not 
rebel  so  fiercely  against  it,  pain  would  lose  half  its 
sting.  Don't  you  think,  now,  for  instance,  that  it 
would  be  much  better  to  bear  the  natural  pain  of  dis- 
ease, and  be  content  with  the  legitimate  means  of  i-elief, 
than  to  escape  from  it  by  drugs  that  destroy  conscious- 
ness, and  end  by  destroying  the  moral  strength,  so  that 
human  beings  are  reduced  to  the  state  of  animals,  with- 
out nerve  or  i*eason  to  bear  up  under  their  suffering  ?" 

"You  would  have  us  all  turn  stoics,  and,  like  that 
Spartan  man,  stand  and  grin  while  the  fox  eats  into  our 
vitals." 


142  Narha.         , 

"I  would  have  us  bear  our  pain  like  Christians, 
instead  of  running  away  from  it  like  cowards." 

"You  are  behind  your  age,  dear  Marguerite,"  said 
Narka,  with  a  smile.  "The  triumph  of  science  is  to 
abolish  pain." 

"The  triumph  of  charity  is  to  alleviate  it;  and  it  is 
better  to  alleviate  it  with  love  and  help  than  to  drug  it 
with  morphine." 

"That  sounds  admirable  as  a  theory,"  said  Narka, 
with  a  touch  of  the  old  scorn,  ' '  but  it  is  a  fallacy ;  it  is 
like  your  dream  of  reforming  the  world  by  love.  You 
must  first  call  in  hate  ;  hate  must  clear  the  ground 
before  love  can  build.  Society,  as  it  exists,  is  an  organ- 
ized system  of  murder  of  the  majority  by  an  omnip- 
otent minority.  That  old  machinery  must  be  smashed 
and  swept  away  before  love  can  come  in  and  raise  a 
new  order  of  things." 

"Hate  would  be  a  dreadful  foundation  to  build  on," 
said  Marguerite.  "Hate  is  suicidal;  it  destroys  itself 
and  everything  else.  It  would  be  like  building  on  a 
volcano.  Oh,  Narka,  I  will  convert  you  into  believing 
in  love!"  she  exclaimed,  vehemently ;  and  she  laid  her 
hand,  once  so  dainty,  now  coarsened  by  work,  on  Nar- 
ka's  arm,  and  gave  her  an  angry  shake.  "What  ails 
you  that  you  can't  believe  in  love  ?" 

"I  wish  I  could,  but — one  can't  become  a  child 
again.  To  ask  me  to  believe  in  love  as  the  factor  that 
governs  the  world  is  like  asking  me  to  believe  in  the 
fairies." 

"How  strange!"  Marguerite  murmured.  "Not  to 
believe  in  love  is  like  not  believing  in  God;  for  God  is 
love." 

"  Your  God,  perhaps." 

"  Oil,  Narka!     Then  tell  me,  if  God  gave  you  happi- 


Navka.  143 

ness,  everything  you  desire,  would  that  make  you  be- 
liev^e  in  Him,  in  His  goodness  ?" 

"  I  suppose  it  would  help  nie.  Everybody  is  a  better 
Christian  for  being  made  happy." 

Marguerite  threw  up  her  hands  and  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. "What  theology!  Did  you  ever  read  of  a  saint 
who  was  sanctified  by  having  everything  liis  own  way? 
For  that  is  what  you  understand  by  happiness  ?  Oh, 
Narka,what  a  dreadful  doctrine !  Why,  surely  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  suffering  is  the  road  to  God;  that 
the  more  we  suffer,  the  greater  our  likeness  to  our  Lord 
Himself  ?" 

"  In  that  case  I  am  as  like  to  Him  as  any  saint  ever 
canonized,"  said  Narka,  with  a  ring  of  passion  in  her 
voice,  ' '  for  I  have  suffered  as  much  as  any  saint  you 
pray  to;  but  it  hasn't  sanctified  me,  not  tliat  I  know  of, 
unless,  perchance,  it  be  part  of  divine  justice  to  make 
sufi^ering  mei'itorious,  without  consent  or  merit  in  the 
suiferer." 

Marguerite  was  silent  a  moment.  ' '  I'm  not  sure  but 
it  may  be  so,"  she  said,  musingly;  "I  sometimes  think 
that  the  mere  condition  of  suffering  has  a  saving  power 
of  its  own."  She  remembered  Narka's  father  and 
brother  cruelly  murdered,  her  mother's  heart  broken, 
and  then  that  dungeon  that  was  "like  being  in  hell." 
She  could  not  argue  with  wounds  like  these.  Neither, 
perhaps,  would  God.  A  great  poet  says,  "Amer*,  c'est 
la  moitie  de  croire.''''  It  would  have  been  nearer  the 
truth  if  he  had  said,  ^'Soiiffrir,  c'est  la  moitie  de  croire.''^ 

"Are  there  no  pleasures  at  all  in  your  life?"  asked 
Narka,  irrelevantly. 

' '  No  pleasures  ?  Why,  everything  is  a  pleasure !  It 
was  an  intense  pleasure  just  now  to  see  a  sick  child  gob- 
ble up  a  pudding  I  had  made  for  it.     I  committed  glut- 


144  JSFarJca. 

tony  by  proxy  looking  at  it.  I  must  tell  you,"  she  said, 
confidentially,  and  assuming  an  air  of  innocent  self-im- 
portance, "I  have  developed  quite  a  genius  for  cook- 
ing. My  puddings  and  tisanes  are  in  great  request, 
and  I  have  invented  a  poultice  that  is  the  delight  of  all 
our  rheumatic  old  women." 

Na-rka  was  amused,  and  in  her  secret  soul  a  little 
disgusted.  She  could  sympathize,  at  least  intellectu- 
ally, Avith  the  sviblime  ambition  that  aimed  at  revolu- 
tionizing tlie  world  by  love,  but  she  could  not  enter 
into  the  glory  of  making  slops  and  poultices.  It  was 
disenchanting  to  see  Marguerite's  grand  vocation  de- 
generate into  such  performances,  to  see  her  gifts  and 
graces  lowered  to  such  vulgar  service. 

"You  are  not  a  bit  changed,  Marguerite,"  she  said, 
observing  her  cuinously ;  "always  the  same  funny  mix- 
ture of  the  natural  and  the  supernatural.  You  super- 
naturalize  everything  without  growing  the  least  super- 
natural yourself."* 

"Indeed,  I  should  hope  not!"  Marguerite  laughed 
merrily.  "I  should  frighten  the  wits  out  of  my  poor 
people  if  I  turned  supernatural.  But  you  must  come 
to  see  me.  I  want  to  show  you  to  Soeur  Jeanne,  our 
Sceur  Superieure,  and  to  let  you  see  the  schools  and 
everything.     You  ivill  come,  won't  you  ?" 

"Of  coui-se  I  will,  dear,"  said  Narka,  amused  at  her 
earnestness. 

"I  have  heard  nothing  about  your  plan  of  life,  dear 
Narka,  or  what  you  are  busy  with." 

"I  have  been  busy  doing  notliing,  so  far,"  said  Nar- 
ka, a  little  embarrassed  how  to  explain  her  life  of  idle- 
ness and  apparent  ease.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  were  lying  half 
asleep  in  a  boat  that  had  drifted  into  port  after  a  storm." 

"Let  yourself  drift;  you  will  be  all  the  better  for 


Narka.  145 

liavii)^  taken  a  rest  wlieu  you  begin  to  work.  Of  course 
you  must  wait,  anyhow,  till  Sibyl  finds  i)upils  for 
you  ?" 

"I  don't  see  how  I  am  to  find  them  by  myself,"  Nar- 
ka answered,  evasively.  She  would  have  gladly  spoken 
out,  and  told  everything,  for  there  was  that  in  Mar- 
guerite which  invited  confidence  and  inspired  absolute 
trust,  and  at  this  juncture  her  sympathy  would  have 
been  delicious;  but  Narka  remembered  Basil's  desire  for 
secrecy  yet  a  little  while,  and  was  silent. 

Basil's  name  had  not  been  mentioned,  nor  Father 
Christopher's.  Many  things  had  not  been  mentioned 
that  both  longed  to  speak  of;  but  they  kissed  and  part- 
ed, content  to  leave  unspoken  things  that  were  unspeak- 
able. 
10 


146  Narka. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

In  the  middle  of  January  Sibyl  returned  to  town. 
She  sent  to  Narka  the  day  after  her  arrival,  asking  her 
to  come  that  afternoon  and  see  her. 

Narka's  heart  beat  fast  as  she  crossed  the  court  of 
the  H6tel  de  Beaucrillon,  while  the  bell  clanged  loudly 
to  announce  her  visit.  A  glow  of  hospitable  warmth 
embraced  her  in  the  hall;  jjalms  and  flowering  plants 
spi-ead  a  fragrance  around  that  completed  the  illusion 
of  a  summer  climate  in  midwinter,  and  her  step  fell 
softly  on  the  thick  pile  of  the  scarlet  carpet  as  she 
ascended  the  wide  staircase,  where  ancestoi's  of  the  de 
Beaucrillons  looked  down  on  her  on  either  side  in 
armor  and  hoops  and  wigs.  One  glance  from  the 
threshold  showed  her  the  whole  aspect  of  the  boudoir, 
whose  folding-doors  stood  open:  the  pale  blue  velvet 
hangings,  the  Aubusson  carpet,  the  crystal  bowls  and 
vases  filled  with  flowers,  and  amidst  these  luxurious 
surroundings  Sibyl  reclining  on  a  couch. 

With  a  scream  of  delight  Sibyl  jumped  up  and  flew 
with  outstretched  arms  to  embrace  her  friend.  She 
clas}^)ed  her,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again  with  every 
expression  of  endearment.  The  excitement  of  the  meet- 
ing, the  joy  of  being  thus  welcomed  by  Sibyl,  by  Basil's 
sister,  had  flushed  Narka,  and  the  pink  glow,  delicate 
as  a  sea-shell,  gave  a  peculiar  brilliancy  to  her  blue- 
black  eyes,  now  liquid  with  tender  eniotion. 

"My  Narka!''  Sibyl  exclaimed,  in  fond  delight;  and 
laying  her  hands  on  Narka's  shoulders,  she  put  her  gen- 


Ncirka.  147 

tly  from  lier  to  get  a  better  view  of  lier.  "You  are 
positively  more  beautiful  tliaii  ever.  And  oh,  dui-ling, 
after  all  you  have  gone  through,  I  dreaded  to  find  your 
beauty  quite  desti"oyed!" 

Narka  grew  suddenly  pale,  and  a  tremor  of  the  lips 
warned  Sibyl  that  she  must  not  lightly  touch  that 
wound. 

"And  your  baby?"  Narka  said,  looking  round,  as 
if  she  expected  to  find  the  little  creature  somewhere 
amongst  the  flowers. 

Sibyl  struck  a  gong,  and  in  a  minute  there  entered 
a  large,  blooming  Bourguignonne  with  a  marvellous 
head-gear,  carrying  a  bundle  of  white  muslin  and  pink 
ribbons.  Sibyl  seized  the  bundle,  and  with  a  pretty 
gesture  of  bestowal  placed  it  in  Narka's  arms.  It  was  a 
delicious  baby,  just  now  moist  and  scarlet  from  its  sleep, 
but  not  a  bit  cross ;  it  crowed  and  gurgled  to  Narka,  and 
let  itself  be  cuddled  and  kissed  without  struggling  away, 
as  is  the  habit  of  babies.  Narka  was  satisfactorily 
enthusiastic  over  the  paragon,  and  Sibyl  was  radiant. 
But  the  baby,  having  played  its  part,  intimated  a  wish 
to  retii*e,  and  had  to  be  carried  away.  Then  M.  de 
Beaucrillon  was  inquired  for,  and  Sibyl's  health  dis- 
cussed, and  every  obvious  question  asked  and  answered, 
and  the  two  friends  found  themselves  face  to  face,  con- 
scious as  people  are  who  are  full  of  feelings  they  must 
not  betray,  and  of  thoughts  they  must  not  put  into 
words. 

"Dear  Narka,"  Sibyl  began,  throwing  back  her  lace 
sleeves  and  clasping  her  hands,  "I  have  a  wonderful 
piece  of  news  to  tell  you ;  it  is  about  Basil." 

"Ah!"  said  Narka,  and  she  blushed. 

"Oh,  good  news,"  Sibyl  added,  quickly.  "He  is 
coming  to  Paris,  and^ — he  is  going  to  be  married !" 


148  Narka. 

Narka  said  "Ah!"  again,  accompanied  with  a  pan- 
tomime of  surprise. 

"Yes.  Poor  Basil!  after  all  the  worry  he  has  gone 
through,  he  is  going  to  he  happy  at  last.  You  remem- 
ber Max'ie  Krinsky,  who  used  to  take  dancing  lessons 
with  us  at  St.  Petersburg  ?  She  was  four  years  young- 
er than  either  of  us,  so  we  did  not  much  notice  her; 
she  is  now  nearly  eighteen,  a  dear  little  thing,  pretty, 
accomplished,  and  her  fortune  is  enormous.  This  is 
a  great  blessing,  for,  with  all  the  drains  he  has  on  him- 
self, my  father  can't  do  much  during  his  life  for  Basil." 

"And  they  are  engaged?"  said  Narka,  speaking 
calmly. 

"Not  yet  officially;  but  he  made  his  court  at  St. 
Petersburg,  and  my  father  spoke  to  Prince  Krinsky, 
who  was  delighted,  and  immediately  asked  that  Basil 
might  be  appointed  secretary  to  the  Embassy  here. 
The  Empress  was  very  unwilling  to  part  with  him;  but 
when  she  heard  of  the  marriage  she  at  once  consented, 
and  was  most  kind.  As  to  the  Emperor,  he  could  not 
have  been  kinder  if  Basil  had  been  a  member  of  the  im- 
perial family.  I  am  so  happy  I  can  hardly  believe  it  is 
all  real." 

A  valet  brought  in  the  tea-tray,  and  Sibyl,  voluble 
and  excited,  sat  down  before  it,  and  busied  herself  with 
the  pretty  preliminaries  for  dispensing  the  fragrant 
hospitalities  of  a  Lilliputian  silver  pot. 

"I  have  been  ruminating  a  little  plan  in  my  head 
ever  since  I  heard  this  great  news — that  is  three  days 
ago,"  she  went  on,  popping  the  sugar  into  the  cups. 
"The  16th  will  be  Marie's  birthday,  and  I  want  to  make 
a  fete  that  day  to  introduce  her  as  his  fiancee  to  our 
friends.  I  wonder  what  would  be  best — a  ball,  or  a 
soiree  musicale  f     What  do  you  think  ?" 


Karka.  149 

"I  am  a  poor  judge  of  such  things,  dear  Sibyl,"  said 
Narka. 

The  tone,  more  than  the  words,  reminded  Sibyl  what 
a  mocking  sound  any  merrymaking  must  have  in  Nar- 
ka's  ears — Nai*ka,  who  had  passed  through  such  hor- 
rors only  a  little  while  ago,  and  who  was  still  in  mourn- 
ing for  her  mother.  She  laid  down  the  tiny  teapot, 
and  went  over  and  put  her  arms  round  the  girl's  neck 
and  kissed  her. 

"Forgive  me,  my  sweet  one;  I  ought  to  have  re- 
membered," she  said,  softly. 

Narka  returned  her  caress.  They  sipped  their  tea, 
and  soon  Sibyl  went  back  to  the  subject  of  Basil's  mar- 
riage. This  at  least  must  be  interesting  to  Narka,  and 
would  not  jar  upon  her. 

"Marie  is  delightfully  in  love,"  she  said;  "it  is 
very  pretty  to  see  how  unconsciously  she  betrays  her- 
self. I  went  to  the  Embassy  this  morning,  and  the 
moment  I  appeared  she  blushed  up  like  a  red  rose, 
and  every  time  I  mentioned  Basil's  name  she  grew 
scarlet.  I  only  hope  Basil  is  thoroughly  in  love  with 
her." 

Narka  had  gone  through  many  ordeals,  had  been 
trained  to  stand  and  smile  while  the  fox  ate  into  her 
flesh,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  powers  of  self-com- 
mand had  never  before  been  put  to  so  severe  a  test. 
She  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this  engagement;  of 
course  not;  it  was  very  likely  a  scheme  arranged  by 
the  Prince,  and  Basil  might  have  played  a  consenting 
part  in  order  to  deceive  him  and  escape;  it  was  quite 
impossible  there  could  be  anything  more  in  the  story. 
Still,  the  very  idea  of  such  a  scheme  being  on  foot 
against  her  happiness  was  enough  to  make  ber  tremble. 
There  were  tremendous  forces  in  league  against  Basil, 


150  Narha. 

and  things  that  were  impossible  sometimes  happened; 
treachery  might  accomplish  what  open  opposition  failed 
to  do.  She  could  not  shut  her  eyes  to  the  fact  that 
Marie  Krinsky  might  be  a  formidable  rival,  young  and 
pretty  as  she  was,  as  well  as  high-born,  wealthy,  and 
passionately  in  love  with  Basil.  Horrible  possibilities 
flashed  through  Narka's  mind  as  she  sat  choking  down 
the  jealous  terrors  that  made  her  feel  by  turns  savage 
and  sick,  while  Sibyl  dilated  complacently  on  the  joys 
in  store  for  Basil  with  another  woman.  She  did  her 
utmost  to  appear  interested,  but  she  only  succeeded  in 
appearing  indifferent;  the  part  of  a  responsive  listener 
was  beyond  her ;  she  played  it  badly.  Sibyl  saw  that  a 
barrier  of  some  sort  had  risen  between  them.  There 
was  something  the  matter  with  Narka ;  there  was  none 
of  the  sisterly  abandon  nor  the  exuberant  delight  at 
their  reunion  that  she  had  looked  forward  to.  Was  it 
that  Narka  was  hurt  to  find  her  so  elated  about  Basil's 
new  happiness,  instead  of  being  entirely  occupied  with 
the  pleasui'e  of  meeting  her  ?  This  was  a  little  unrea- 
sonable, but  perhaps  it  was  natural.  With  the  tact 
that  she  excelled  in,  Sibyl  glided  gently  from  Basil  and 
Marie  Krinsky  to  various  other  points  of  interest  in  her 
own  life,  and  then,  as  if  thankful  to  dismiss  these  sub- 
jects and  enter  on  the  one  that  was  most  in  her 
thoughts,  "And  now,  dearest,"  she  said,  taking  Narka's 
hand  on  her  knee  and  clasping  it,  "I  have  told  you 
all  there  is  to  tell  about  myself,  and  I  want  to  hear 
about  you." 

She  put  a  series  of  questions  to  Narka  about  her 
health,  her  experience  at  Koenigsberg,  her  success  there, 
her  pupils,  her  singing,  her  present  arrangements;  and 
Narka  answered  them  all  as  she  could.  When  Sibyl 
heard  the  rent  she  was  paying  she  said,  "  Oh!"  and  bit 


Narha.  151 

her  lip,  and  held  it  bitten,  as  if  arrested  and  surpi'ised 
beyond  power  of  further  speech. 

"I  thought  it  dear,"  Narka  remarked,  feeling  very- 
hypocritical;  "but  I  could  not  stay  at  the  hotel.  It 
was  altogether  too  dear.     Everything  is  very  dear." 

"I  warned  you  of  that,  c/teVie,"  Sibyl  said,  letting  go 
her  underlip. 

"Oh  yes,  you  warned  me;  if  I  come  to  grief,  I  have 
no  one  to  blame  but  myself." 

There  was  certainly  something  wrong  with  Narka, 
Sibyl  felt  it  a  relief  when  M.  de  Beaucrillon  came  in 
and  cut  short  the  tete-a-tete. 

M.  de  Beauci'illon  had  not  liked  Narka  at  Yrakow; 
but  he  met  her  now  with  the  most  cordial  warmth. 
There  was  more  than  courtesy,  there  was  genuine  kind- 
liness, in  the  way  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and 
held  it  in  his  firm  grasp  while  he  bade  her  welcome  to 
his  home. 

"I  called  on  you  an  hour  ago,  hoping  to  carry  you 
back  with  me,"  he  said  ;  "but  you  had  just  gone  out." 

Narka  felt  her  self-respect  raised  by  the  deferential 
kindness  of  this  knightly  gentleman.  He  called  her 
Narka,  which  he  had  never  done  before. 

"He  will  be  a  friend  to  me,"  she  thought,  remember- 
ing how  soon  she  might  have  to  put  his  fi'iendship  to 
the  tes-t. 


152  Nai'ka. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Narka  was  very  miserable  after  this  first  meeting 
with  Sibyl,  that  she  had  looked  forward  to  so  longingly. 
She  would  not  confess  to  herself  that  she  attached 
any  importance  to  that  story  of  Basil's  engagement; 
still  it  haunted  her  and  poisoned  her  peace  of  mind. 
She  could  not  sleep.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  she 
got  up  and  struck  a  light,  and  by  way  of  calming  her- 
self read  over  Basil's  letters.  They  were  few,  and  they 
were  generally  short,  and  always  guarded  in  expression ; 
cold  love-letters,  most  lovers  would  have  called  them; 
but  to  Nai'ka  they  were  all-sufficing;,;  they  were  written 
as  a  man  whispers  when  the  enemy  is  listening  to  catch 
every  word  he  says.  This,  she  knew,  was  why  he  had 
not  written  now  to  tell  her  of  his  immediate  arrival. 
Still  he  might  have  contrived  to  make  her  a  sign  some- 
how. Then,  again,  she  remembered  how  necessary 
caution  was  at  such  a  crisis,  how  fearful  he  must  be  of 
exciting  suspicion.  She  took  out  her  ring,  and  the  sight 
of  it  seemed  to  rebuke  and  reassure  her.  She  kissed  it, 
and  blew  out  her  candle  and  went  back  to  bed. 

"I  am  like  that  woman,"  she  said  to  herself,  "who 
declared  she  did  not  believe  in  ghosts,  but  that  she  was 
mortally  afraid  of  them." 

Two  days  elapsed.  Narka  was  at  her  piano  when 
the  door  opened  and  let  in  a  sudden  putf  of  violets. 
The  violets  announced  Sibyl  before  she  had  time  to  an- 
nounce herself  by  a  joyous  exclamation. 

"  He  will  be  here  on  the  15th !  In  seven  days!  Can 
you  believe  it  ?     Can  you  believe  it  ?" 


Narha.  153 

She  kissed  Narka,  and  sank  down  on  the  sofa  and 
pulled  off  her  gloves:  the  first  thing-  Sibyl  did  when 
she  wanted  to  talk  was  to  pull  off  her  gloves.  Those 
nervous,  dimpled,  bejewelled  little  hands  played  a  great 
part  in  her  discourse;  they  had  a  language  of  their 
own,  without  whose  help  much  of  her  speech  would 
have  been  incomplete. 

' '  Narka,  put  on  your  bonnet  and  come  off  with  me. 
I  can't  enjoy  my  happiness  fully  unless  I  have  you  to 
share  it.  Gaston  is  an  angel ;  but  he  is  a  man ;  he  can't 
understand.  No  one  but  you  can  sympathize  with  me, 
and  feel  what  it  will  be  to  me  to  have  Basil  free,  and 
married,  and  safe  out  of  mischief.  I  have  been  to  the 
Krinskys'.  Marie  is  radiant.  But  we  have  no  time  to 
lose  to  get  ready  the  soiree  for  the  16th.  It  falls  on  a 
Wednesday,  which  is  unlucky,  as  that  is  my  day.  It 
will  be  a  bore  if  he  comes  in  the  afternoon.  But  he  will 
most  likely  ai'rive  by  the  evening  train.  You  know  the 
16th  is  Marie's  birthday  ?  I  am  going  to  Worth's  to 
order  my  dress.  Put  on  your  things  and  come  with  me. 
It  will  amuse  you,  dearest.     Come !" 

Narka  did  as  she  was  told:  fate  seemed  to  be  making 
sport  of  her,  making  her  play  comedy  in  spite  of  her- 
self. She  was  in  no  mood  to  be  amused,  and  yet  Sibyl 
was  right,  the  ordering  of  the  dress  did  amuse  her.  It 
amused  her  to  see  the  mobility  with  which  her  compan- 
ion sprang  away  fi'om  Basil  and  became  absorbed  in 
the  question  of  toilette.  It  amused  her  to  see  the  devout 
attention  which  the  man  dress-maker  bestowed  on  the 
matter.  The  consultation  lasted  half  an  hour,  and  was 
conducted  on  both  sides  with  the  gravity  befitting  the 
importance  of  the  subject. 

"Madame  la  Comtesse  may  rest  satisfied;  her  dress 
-will  be  the  event  of  the  season,"  Worth  remarked,  with 


154  Narha. 

quiet  assurance,  as  he  fluug  aside  the  costly  stuffs  he 
had  been  coiling-  and  looping  to  illustrate  his  idea. 

Sibyl  was  flushed,  but  cheerful  and  confident.  ' '  And 
now,  dearest,"  she  said,  in  Russian,  to  Narka,  "you 
must  order  a  dress";  and  without  giving  her  time  to 
answer  she  turned  to  Worth:  "Mademoiselle  is  in 
mourning,  as  you  see,  but  she  wants  you  to  make  her  a 
white  dress  that  can  be  worn  at  a  soiree  de  contrat.'''' 

The  potentate  of  fashion  fixed  his  eyes  on  Narka,  as 
if  to  take  in  the  characteristics  of  line  and  color  that 
were  to  guide  him.  He  called  for  white  tissues,  and 
proceeded  to  roll  out  velvets  and  gauzes  round  Narka  as 
if  she  had  been  a  statue.  He  then  made  notes  and  lines 
on  his  carnet,  and  handing  it  to  her,  "I  think,  made- 
moiselle, something  in  this  style  will  suit  you  ?"  he  said. 

Narka  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  It  might 
have  been  taken  from  the  garment  she  had  invented  for 
herself  at  Yrakow. 

"It  will  require  a  little  relief,"  observed  Worth;  "a 
gold  buckle  here  on  the  tunic,  and  a  clasp  on  the  shoul- 
der fastening  the  long  sleeves.  Would  that  be  too  great 
a  concession  to  ask  V 

"Not  the  least,"  interposed  Sibyl.  "Your  Russian 
gold  ornaments  will  suit  beautifully,"  she  said,  turning 
to  Narka.  "You  must  bring  them  when  you  come  to 
try  on  the  dress." 

When  they  got  out  on  the  stairs,  Narka  said:  "  How 
foolish  of  you,  Sibyl !  My  white  cashmere  would  have 
done  perfectly.  This  is  only  a  second  edition  of  it,  and 
will  cost  a  hundred  times  more." 

"If  Worth  could  hear  you !"  Sibyl's  laugh  rang  out 
clear  on  the  staircase.  "Nonsense!  I  want  you  to  look 
your  best.  You  are  going  to  sing.  I  have  decided  for 
a  concert  instead  of  a  ball,  and  it  was  chiefly  on  your 


Ncirlca.  155 

account.  I  want  you  to  shine  out  as  a  star  to  all  my 
friends.  Marie  is  going-  to  sing  with  our  cousin  Henri 
de  Beaucrillon,  and  I  shall  have  several  good  artists, 
but  you  will  outshine  them  all.  Mind,  you  are  to  be 
in  splendid  voice !" 

They  drove  about  giving  orders  at  the  shops  for  some 
hours.  Narka  had  to  go  back  with  Sibyl  and  spend  the 
evening.  After  dinner  she  had  to  sing.  Sibyl  de- 
clared her  voice  w^as  finer  than  ever,  but  M.  de  Beau- 
crillon remembered  how  that  love  song  at  Yrakow  had 
melted  the  heart  in  his  breast,  and  he  felt  that  though 
the  instrument  was  still  beautiful,  the  passionate  soul 
which  had  inspired  it  that  night  was  absent  or  silent. 

Every  day  for  the  next  six  days  Narka  was  at  the 
Rue  St.  Dominique  almost  from  morning  till  night. 
There  was  no  escaping  from  Sibyl.  "I  can't  do  with- 
out you,  dearest,"  she  repeated ;  "  I  want  your  sympathy 
and  your  calm  strength  to  support  me  through  this  ner- 
vous time." 

Madame  de  Beaucrillon's  house  was  the  apex  of  the 
world  in  which  she  moved ;  the  domestic  events  which 
had  closed  it  for  a  time  had  been  bewailed  as  social  ca- 
lamities, and  the  announcement  that  it  was  going  to 
be  opened  on  so  brilliant  an  occasion  was  received 
with  general  satisfaction.  Sibyl  wanted  Narka  to  take 
the  management  of  the  musical  jirogramme;  but  Nar- 
ka refused;  she  knew  it  would  bring  her  into  imme- 
diate, perhaps  intimate,  contact  with  Princess  Marie, 
and  thei'e  were  limits  to  what  she  could  bear.  She  was 
in  constant  terror  of  meeting  Marie  at  the  Rue  St. 
Dominique ;  but  fortune  spared  her  that  trial,  although 
Sibyl  had  made  more  than  one  appointment  to  introduce 
them.  She  was  presented  to  a  number  of  other  ladies, 
who  assured  her  they  were  ' '  ravished  to  make  her  ac- 


156  Karha. 

quaintance."  It  would  have  been  pleasant  enough  to  be 
welcomed  by  these  high-bred  French  women  if  Narka 
had  not  felt  that  she  was  under  false  appearances. 
Would  they  have  been  ravished  to  make  her  acquaint- 
ance if  they  had  known  she  was  going  to  carry  off  the 
prize  so  many  of  tliem  were  coveting  for  a  daughter  or  a 
sister  ? 

Since  that  letter  from  the  Prince  announcing  Basil's 
arrival  for  the  15th  there  had  been  no  news  from  St. 
Petersburg.  Narka  would  not  own  to  herself  that  this 
silence  made  her  uneasy,  that  she  was  frightened,  in 
fact.     But  she  was. 

On  Tuesday  afternoon,  the  day  before  Basil  was  to 
arrive,  she  was  with  Sibyl,  when  the  servant  brought 
in  a  telegram.  It  was  from  tlie  Prince:  ''''  Expect  Basil 
Wednesday.''^ 

"How  delightful!"  exclaimed  Sibyl;  "he  will  come 
to  find  us  all  en  fete  to  Welcome  him !  If  only  my 
father  had  said  'morning'  or  'evening'!  It  will  be 
tiresome  if  he  arrives  in  the  evening  just  as  the  people 
are  flocking  in.  Dear  me,  how  dreadful  this  uncer- 
tainty is!"  She  moved  about,  and  sat  down,  and  got 
up  again,  and  Avas  fluttei'ed  and  ecstatic  and  alarmed 
and  impatient  all  in  a  minute. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets, 
and  leaned  against  the  mantel,  and  gazed  with  serio- 
comic gravity  at  his  wife.  "How  you  Russians  do 
dramatize  every  crisis  in  life !"  he  said,  putting  his  head 
to  one  side  with  a  movement  that  resembled  Margue- 
rite, and  he  turned  to  Narka.  The  expression  of  her 
face  startled  him.  There  was  no  dramatizing  there; 
there  was  poignant  emotion  that  she  was  straining  every 
nerve  to  keep  under  control.  What  need  was  there  for 
this  fierce  effort  at  self-restraint  ? 


Narlca.  157 

"There  is  always  something  about  that  girl  that  I 
caunot  understand,"  M.  de  Beaucrillon  said  within  him- 
self, and  he  looked  away. 

At  Sibyl's  request  he  took  up  the  railway  guide, 
and  made  it  evident  to  her  that  Basil  must  come  by  a 
morning  train,  so  that  the  excitement  of  the  soiree 
would  not  be  made  too  overpowering  by  the  emotion  of 
receiving  him  in  the  midst  of  five  hundred  guests. 
Sibyl  wanted  Narka  to  come  and  sleep  at  her  house  ou 
the  eve  of  the  concert;  but  Narka  had  a  series  of  reasons 
— all  foolish  ones,  Sibyl  thought— to  prove  that  this 
would  be  a  most  inconvenient  arrangement  for  her. 
In  her  secret  soul  she  was  convinced  that  Basil  would 
arrive  by  the  early  train,  and  come  straight  to  her  be- 
fore going  to  Sibyl.  The  idea  of  meeting  him  in 
Sibyl's  presence  was  too  dreadful  to  be  contemplated. 
She  could  never  go  through  the  ordeal  without  betray- 
ing herself.  And  yet,  after  all,  she  reflected,  did  it  mat- 
ter so  very  much  ?  A  few  days,  a  few  hours  probably, 
sooner  or  later,  and  the  crisis  must  come. 

When  it  came,  how  would  Sibyl  meet  it?  This  ques- 
tion kept  perpetually  recurring  to  Narka,  and  filled  her 
with  an  anguish  of  uncertainty  which  even  the  joy  of 
meeting  Basil  could  not  banish  from  her  mind. 

Wednesday  morning  dawned,  and  it  found  her  watch- 
ing. She  had  been  too  excited  to  sleep.  She  rose  fe- 
verish and  unrefreshed  and  spent  the  morning  coming 
and  going  from  the  window.  Every  cab  that  drove  up 
the  street  made  her  heai-t  leap.  But  the  eai'ly  hours 
went  by,  noon  came,  and  no  Basil,  and  no  news  from 
Sibyl. 

"He  will  come  by  the  evening  train,  and  I  shall 
have  to  meet  him  befoi*e  Sibyl!"  she  thought.  And 
then  a  terror  seized  upon  her,  and  she  resolved  not  to 


158  Narha. 

go.  But  this  panic  did  not  last.  It  was  quickly  follow- 
ed by  a  feeling  of  defiance,  and  a  longing  to  let  Sibyl 
and  all  the  world  know  that  she  was  Basil's ^ancee,  and 
ready  to  brave  the  whole  world  rather  than  give  him  up. 

The  day  dragged  heavily  on  till  evening,  and  then 
it  was  time  to  dress.  Narka  coiled  up  her  shining  gold 
hair,  and  robed  herself  in  the  wonderful  white  draperies 
that  Worth  had  combined  out  of  soft  and  costly  mate- 
rials, and  then  clasped  on  her  golden  necklace  and  brace- 
lets, and  waited  for  the  carriage  to  come  for  her. 

As  she  beheld  herself  reflected  in  the  long  mirror 
of  the  wardrobe,  her  heart  exulted,  not  from  any  sense 
of  vulgar  vanity — she  was  too  proud  and  too  chastened 
by  sorrow  for  so  mean  a  vice  as  vanity — but  she  re- 
joiced in  her  beauty  for  Basil's  sake.  "  He  will  be  glad 
to  see  me  looking  well  amongst  other  women,"  she  said 
to  herself,  with  a  soft  thrill  of  happiness ;  and  the  flush 
of  love  and  conscious  power  made  her  cheek  glow. 

When  she  reached  the  Rue  St.  Dominique,  M.  de 
Beaucrillon  had  gone  to  meet  Basil.  Sibyl  was  dress- 
ed, and  sat  watching  impatiently  for  the  return  of  the 
brougham.  Narka,  though  outwardly  calm,  was  trem- 
bling with  excitement. 

' '  You  will  be  the  Queen  of  Beauty  to-night  as  well 
as  the  Queen  of  Song,  my  Narka,"  Sibyl  exclaimed,  in 
frank  admiration,  when  she  beheld  her.  "How  pleased 
Basil  will  be  to  find  you  looking  so  well !  Come,  and 
let  us  see  how  the  rooms  look  lighted.  It  will  help  to 
pass  the  time  while  we  are  waiting.  Stop!  there  is  a 
carriage  driving  in,"  She  flew  out  to  the  landing,  and 
called  out,  "Sont-ce  ces  messieurs  ?" 

The  groom  of  the  chambers  answered  from  the  hall, 
"  M.  le  Comte  has  returned  alone,  Madame  la  Comtesse." 

Presently  M.  de  Beaucrillon  came  slowly  up  the  stairs. 


Narha.  159 

"What  can  it  mean?"  Sibyl  asked,  fluttered  and 
vexed. 

"I  dou't  suppose  it  is  the  first  time  Basil  has  been 
unpunctual  to  an  appointment,"  her  husband  said,  in 
his  solemn  way;  "the  singular  thing  would  be  if  he 
were  to  keep  one." 

"He  must  have  missed  the  train  somewhere,"  said 
Sibyl,  "unless  he  was  taken  suddenly  ill;  but  then  he 
would  have  telegraphed." 

"He  is  not  ill,  ma  cUhre  amie;  I  will  answer  for 
that;  he  is  simply  your  brothei' — the  best  fellow  in  holy 
Eussia,  but  born  without  the  faculty  of  keeping  an 
appointment.     Where  is  Nai'ka  ?" 

Narka,  whose  heart  had  begun  to  palpitate  violently 
at  the  prospect  of  seeing  Basil  appear  in  a  moment, 
had  stood  clutching  the  back  of  a  chair  until  she  heard 
Sibyl's  exclamation  of  disappointment,  and  then,  re- 
gaining possession  of  herself,  she  walked  quietly  on 
toward  the  landing.  The  effect  she  produced  on  M.  de 
Beaucrillon  was  so  great  that  she  could  not  pretend 
not  to  see  it.  He  started,  and  for  a  second  looked  at 
her,  positively  dazzled.  For  the  first  time  in  her  young 
life  Narka  realized  that  she  possessed  a  sovereignty  to 
which  men  were  ready  to  bow  down.  By  the  time  she 
had  given  him  her  hand,  and  he  had  raised  it  to  his 
lips,  as  was  his  graceful  habit  with  her,  Sibyl  had  join- 
ed them;  she  was  so  agitated  and  full  of  her  disappoint- 
ment as  to  dispel  the  momentary  bashf  ulness  that  Narka 
had  felt  under  M.  de  Beaucrillon's  unspoken  admiration. 
There  were  a  few  moments  of  excited  talk,  Sibyl  asking 
and  answering  a  score  of  questions  in  one  breath,  and 
then  the  carriages  rolled  in  quickly  one  upon  another, 
and  guests  arrived  in  rapid  succession. 

Sibyl  stood  to  receive  them  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 


160  Narka. 

Narka  escaped  to  the  music-room,  but  Sibyl  missed  her 
in  a  minute,  and  sent  M.  de  Beaucrillon  to  bring  her 
back.  He  soon  captured  her,  for  the  crowd  was  not 
yet  large  enough  to  give  her  shelter, 

"I  have  orders  to  take  you,  dead  or  alive,"  he  said, 
drawing  her  arm  tli rough  his,  and  marching  her  back 
to  Sibyl,  "Must  I  hold  you  bodily  in  durance,  or 
will  you  be  my  prisoner  on  parole  ?" 

"  I  give  my  parole,"  she  said. 

He  bowed  and  released  her. 

The  gay  and  brilliant  crowd  kept  streaming  in,  and 
soon  the  spacious  suite  of  salons  was  filled.  At  eleven 
o'clock  the  concert  began.  It  opened  with  a  fine  orches- 
tral performance;  then  Marie  Krinsky  sang  her  duet; 
this  was  followed  by  several  other  pieces,  vocal  and 
instrumental;  and  then  it  was  Narka's  turn.  The 
suspense  of  the  day,  culminating  in  the  disappointment 
at  the  end  of  it,  had  so  excited  and  exhausted  her  that 
she  felt  incapable  of  singing  a  note;  her  tongue  was 
parclied,  her  throat  felt  as  if  it  were  paralyzed.  When 
M.  de  Beaucrillon  went  up  and  offered  her  his  arm,  she 
did  not  move,  but  looked  up  at  him  entreatingly. 

"  I  can't  sing!"  she  said. 

It  seemed  cruel  to  insist,  but  he  felt  sure  that  she 
could.  "Sibyl  will  be  terribly  disappointed,"  he  said, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

Narka  stood  up.  The  movement,  the  sudden  reso- 
lution, seemed  to  say,  "Then  I  will  do  it  or  die." 

She  took  his  arm  and  walked  to  the  centre  of  the 
platform.  Her  cheeks  were  delicately  flushed,  her  great 
lustrous  eyes  had  a  flame  in  them,  her  coral  lips,  clear 
cut  as  a  cameo  against  the  ivory  skin,  were  parted 
tremulously,  while  an  air  of  incomparable  dignity  and 
modesty  heightened  the  effect  of  her  rare  loveliness. 


JVcirka.  161 

There  was  a  profound  liusli  tlirougli  the  crowded 
rooms;  the  orchestra  played  the  opening  accompaui- 
ment,  and  Narka  lifted  up  her  voice  and  sang. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  was  right.  She  could  sing.  After 
the  few  notes  assured  her  that  she  had  command  of 
her  instrument,  her  voice  poured  out  like  a  crystal 
stream,  rising  and  swelling  and  ti'illing  with  as  little 
effort  as  a  bird's.  The  audience  were  quite  carried 
away,  and  when  the  song  was  over  they  burst  into  a 
salvo  of  rapturous  applause.  Sibyl  drifted  with  her 
serpentine  grace  across  the  platform  and  kissed  Narka, 
and  other  ladies,  following  this  example,  gathered  about 
her,  kissing  and  congratulating.  All  round  her  people 
wei*e  exclaiming,  "What  genius !"  "How  beautiful  she 
is!"  The  gentlemen  were  clamoring  for  the  honor  of 
being  presented.  It  was  one  of  those  moments  that 
bi'ing  with  them  a  kind  of  intoxication  to  the  calmest 
and  wisest.  Yet  there  was  something  timid  in  the 
glance  of  Narka's  large  dark  eyes  that  seemed  to  depre- 
cate all  this  homage  and  admiration.  If  only  Basil 
had  been  there  to  enjoy  it  and  to  justify  it!  Without 
him,  she  felt  the  triumph  was  not  wholly  hers;  she  was 
receiving  it  under  false  pretences. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  was  charming.  "  Je  suis  tres  fiere 
de  ma  belle-sceur,"  he  said,  presenting  her  to  a  ven- 
erable duchess  whose  smile  was  social  distinction  in  the 
great  world. 

Even  in  Basil's  absence  it  was  something  to  have 
been  thus  welcomed  by  the  friends  to  whom  he  would 
soon  present  her  as  his  wife.  As  she  drove  home,  Nar- 
ka Avas  conscious  that  it  had  been  a  brilliant  evening; 
Sibyl  had  been  perfect;  everybody  had  welcomed  and 
admired  her;  and  she  was  Basil's  affianced  wife. 
11 


Id2  JSarka. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Two  days  went  by,  aud  there  was  no  news  from 
Basil.  On  the  morning'  of  the  third  day  tlie  brougham 
came  from  the  Hotel  de  Beaucrillon  with  a  message  re- 
questing Narka  to  come  at  once.  Narka  obeyed  the 
summons,  full  of  anxiety  as  to  its  meaning.  She  found 
Sibyl  walking  up  and  down  the  library  in  a  state  of  vio- 
lent though  suppressed  excitement. 

"There  !  read  that,"  she  said,  drawing  a  letter  fi'om 
her  pocket,  and  holding  it  out  to  Narka,  without  arrest- 
ing her  walk. 

Narka,  sick  with  suspense,  sat  down  and  read  the  let- 
ter. It  was  from  Prince  Zorokoff.  He  had  discovered 
on  the  very  eve  of  Basil's  departure  that  the  boy  had 
entangled  himself  in  some  promise  of  marriage  to  a  wo- 
man of  low  condition,  and  that  this  had  been  at  the  bot- 
tom of  his  desire  to  get  out  of  Russia.  ' '  He  tried  to 
deny  it  at  first,"  wrote  the  Prince,  "but  I  put  the  holy 
image  before  him,  and  bade  him  swear  the  story  was  a 
lie.  He  did  not  dare  do  it,  and  he  ended  by  declaring 
that  it  was  true,  and  that  he  would  never  marry  Marie 
K.  or  any  other  \t^oman  but  the  one  he  loved.  I  said 
if  he  married  her  I  would  curse  him.  I  gave  him  three 
months  to  come  to  his  senses  and  his  duty.  If  that  does 
not  do,  I  will  have  him  circumscribed  under  surveil- 
lance of  the  police  at  Kronstadt.  The  sight  of  the  for- 
tress will  have  a  sobering  effect." 

Narka  stilled  a  cry,  and  let  the  letter  fall  on  her  lap. 

"Well,"  said  Sibyl,  coming  up  and  standing  before 


Narha.  163 

her,  "what  do  you  say  to  this?  The  infatuated  bo}'! 
It  must  be  some  woman  he  met  in  Italy.  And  with  a 
foreign  woman  we  are  powerless.  She  can't  be  a  Rus- 
sian, or  my  father  would  have  said  so.  If  she  were  Rus- 
sian, it  would  be  easy  to  deal  with  her.  A  threat  of  the 
knout  would  soon  bring  her  on  her  knees."  She  shut 
her  right  hand  with  a  quick  inwai'd  movement  that 
was  too  expressive  to  be  mistaken ;  those  soft,  dimpled 
hands  were  itching  for  the  knout  to  scourge  the  wo- 
man who  had  come  between  Basil  and  the  pride  of  the 
Zorokoffs.  Sibyl  was  horrible  to  look  at;  her  white 
teeth  showed  between  her  parted  lips;  her  words  came 
hissing;  her  blue  eyes  glittered  —  they  never  flashed- 
when  she  was  excited,  they  glittered — her  features  were 
convulsed,  her  whole  frame  shaken  with  passion.  Nar- 
ka  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  to  shut  out  the  sight. 

"Oh,  Sibyl !"  she  murmured. 

"Yes,  it  is  too  loathsome  to  contemplate,"  cried  Sibyl, 
misunderstanding  the  gesture  and  the  exclamation. 
"Could  you  have  believed  Basil  such  a  weak  fool  ?  If 
we  even  knew  who  and  where  this  creature  is,  we  might 
buy  her  off.  That  is  our  only  chance,  as  she  is  a  for- 
eigner.    We  must  buy  her  off." 

"But if  she  loves  Basil—" Narka  ventured,  hesitating. 

"Love  him!  A  creature  like  that!  Allans  doner 
Sibyl  gave  a  laugh  that  sounded  devilish.  She  looked 
like  an  incarnate  devil,  or  some  avenging  pythoness, 
with  her  glittering  eyes,  and  her  small  head  reared, 
the  blue  sheen  of  her  satin  dressing-gown  shimmering 
in  snake-like  folds  round  her  tall  figure.  Narka  could 
not  believe  her  senses.  Was  this  the  Sibyl  she  had  loved 
all  her  life  and  worshipped  as  the  type  of  all  that  was 
good  and  lovable  ? — the  Sibyl  who  was  so  tender  to  suf- 
fering, so  generous  to  her  peasants,  so  indulgent  to  their 


164  •  Narka. 

vices,  so  ready  to  forgive  their  lies  and  thefts  and  wrong- 
doings ?  What  evil  spirit  had  entered  into  her  ?  And 
if  she  knew  the  name  of  the  woman  against  whom  this 
outburst  of  hate  was  directed,  would  the  knowledge  be 
a  welcome  relief,  or  would  it  only  turn  the  current  of 
her  scorn  and  rage  toward  the  culprit  ?  The  look  of 
blank  despair  on  Narka's  face  struck  Sibyl  even  in  the 
midst  of  her  passion. 

"Oh,  Narka,"  she  cried,  "if  you  feel  this  shame  so 
keenly,  think  what  it  must  be  for  me!"  and  she  sank 
down  beside  Narka,  and  fell  upon  her  neck,  sobbing 
hysterically. 

•  Narka,  faint  and  sick  at  heart,  waited  till  the  storm 
of  grief,  of  fury,  should  have  spent  itself.  Sibyl,  who 
knew  that  it  was  lier  way  to  be  silent  when  she  felt  most 
deeply,  was  satisfied  to  lay  her  head  upon  that  strong 
and  tender  heart,  and  gave  vent  to  her  own  passion  in 
floods  of  tears. 

They  had  both  been  too  much  engrossed  to  notice  the 
clanging  of  the  bell,  announcing  a  visitor.  Presently 
the  servant  came  in  to  say  that  the  doctor  was  waiting 
to  see  Madame  la  Comtesse. 

Sibyl  raised  her  head  and  wiped  her  eyes,  and,  with 
that  mobility  which  was  one  of  her  characteristics,  in 
an  instant  had  regained  complete  possession  of  herself. 

"I  am  coming,"  she  said  to  the  valet;  and  then,  turn- 
ing to  Narka,  ' '  We  have  been  so  full  of  this  hox*ror 
that  I  had  not  time  to  tell  you  baby  is  not  well,"  she 
said.  ' '  I  hope  it  is  nothing  serious,  but  I  thought  it 
better  to  send  for  the  doctor.  Nai*ka,  you  must  come 
and  stay  with  me  for  a  few  days,  and  help  me  to  live 
tlu'ough  the  first  misery  of  this  trial.  I  shall  die  if  I 
have  not  some  one  to  help  me  with  sympathy.  Gaston 
is  shocked,  but  he  can't  enter  into  my  feelings.     The 


Narka.  165 

brougham  will  take  you  home  now,  and  you  can  put  up 
what  you  want,  and  come  straight  back.  Oh !"  slie  ex- 
claimed, looking  into  the  girl's  agonized  face,  "what 
should  I  do  without  you  to  feel  for  me  I"  She  kissed 
her,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

But  Narka  had  no  notion  of  coming  back  to  have  her 
own  sufferings  made  tenfold  bitterer  by  the  sight  of 
Sibyl's  hate  and  anger.  By  tlie  time  she  had  driven 
home  she  was,  indeed,  unequal  to  the  effort,  if  she  had 
been  ever  so  anxious  to  make  it.  She  sent  a  message 
to  Sibyl  saying  that  she  had  nearly  fainted  on  getting 
to  her  own  door,  and  must  be  quiet  for  that  evening. 

Poor  Narka!  An  earthquake  had  come  and  shaken 
the  earth  under  her  feet  since  morning,  and  shattered 
her  paradise  to  ruins.  Was  it  possible  it  could  be  re- 
built again  ?  Basil  was  now  more  fatally  separated 
from  her  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  There  was  no 
chance  of  his  escaping;  the  Prince  would  take  care 
of  that.  Had  the  Prince  any  idea,  she  wondered,  who 
the  low  woman  was  ?  And  if  not,  would  it  propitiate 
him  to  hear  that  she  was  the  one  he  had  sheltered  under 
his  roof,  and  called  his  child,  and  rescued  from  a  cruel 
captivity? 

The  day  passed  in  a  sort  of  stupor.  It  was  only  when 
she  lay  down  to  rest  that,  in  the  silence  of  the  night, 
Narka  awoke  to  the  remembrance  that  apart  from  the 
wreck  of  her  hopes,  and  the  blow  that  had  crushed  her 
heart,  other  trials  had  overtaken  her  which  would  not 
let  her  sit  at  home  and  weep.  What  was  she  to  do 
now  ?  How  was  she  to  live  ?  Practical  dilemmas  of 
many  kinds  surrounded  her;  urgent  difficulties  were 
pressing  to  be  dealt  with.  She  spent  the  night  asking 
herself  how  she  was  to  meet  them ;  but  the  dawn  bi'oke 
and  found  the  problem  unsolved.      Daylight  seemed, 


166  Narha. 

iudeed,  only  to  magnify,  by  letting  in  a  more  vivid 
mental  light  upon  them,  the  troubles  that  had  loomed, 
dark  enough,  but  still  vague,  during  the  long,  sleepless 
night. 

She  must  leave  her  jjresent  apartment,  for  one  thing. 
It  was  much  too  expensive  for  her  means  and  pros- 
pects now.  She  had  been  spending  money  freely,  and 
her  funds  were  running  low.  And  where  was  she  to 
find  pupils  ?  Sibyl  was  her  only  resource,  and  her 
whole  soul  writhed  at  the  thought  of  having  to  depend 
on  Sibyl.     Suddenly  Narka  x'emembered  Marguerite. 

"I  will  go  to  Marguerite,"  she  said.  And  she  rose 
and  dressed  herself  in  the  gray  twilight  of  the  winter's 
mornina:. 


Narha.  167 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Narka  was  just  starting  for  La  Villette,  when  a 
vehicle  stopped  at  the  door.  She  looked  out,  and  saw 
Sibyl's  brougham.  Before  there  was  time  to  consider 
how  she  should  endure  this  new  ordeal,  it  was  made 
evident  that  Sibyl  was  not  in  the  brougham,  for  the 
footman  jumped  down  with  a  note  in  his  hand,  and 
disappeared  under  the  porte  cochere.  Presently  there 
was  a  ring  at  the  door.  Eudoxie  had  gone  out.  "I 
will  not  open,"  Narka  thought.  "It  is  no  doubt  asking 
me  to  go  to  hex",  and  I  can't  go;  I  won't  go." 

The  servant  rang  three  times,  and  then  gave  it  up. 
The  brougham  drove  away,  and  Narka,  after  waiting  a 
few  minutes  to  make  sure  of  its  being  at  a  safe  distance, 
Avent  down-stairs. 

Passing  the  lodge,  the  concierge  came  out  and  hand- 
ed her  a  note.  "The  footman  rang  at  mademoiselle's 
door,  but  no  one  answered  him,"  said  the  woman. 

The  note  was  from  Sibyl. 

"  Come  to  me  at  once,  dai'ling.  I  am  in  a  sea  of  an- 
guish.     Baby  has  the  small-pox !     I  am  half  mad. 

"Your  own  Sibyl." 

"Poor  little  angel!"  said  Narka,  with  a  pang.  But 
his  illness  at  this  crisis  was  a  boon  to  her,  inasmuch  as 
it  would  keep  Sibyl  away,  and  absorb  her,  and  draw  her 
mind  from  the  woman  she  wished  to  scourge. 

It  was  a  miserable  morning.     The  rain  had  been  fall- 


168  Karha. 

ing  heavily  all  niglit.  Every  rut  and  channel  was  turn- 
ed into  a  pool,  and  a  cold  drizzly  rain  was  still  falling. 
Narka  had  used  cabs,  and  freely  enough,  since  she  had 
been  in  Paris,  but  the  stern  reign  of  economy  which 
had  suddenly  set  in  reminded  her  that  omnibuses  were 
a  cheaper  mode  of  conveyance;  she  asked  her  way  to 
the  nearest  station,  but  when  she  got  there  it  was  so 
crowded  that  she  had  to  push  on  to  the  counter  for  a 
number,  and  then  push  her  way  out  again.  An  omni- 
bus was  coming  up ;  as  it  slackened  pace  a  crowd  troop- 
ed after  it  with  their  umbrellas  spread,  looking  like  a  - 
whale  or  some  huge  bird  in  the  wake  of  a  ship.  They 
looked  intensely  ridiculous  "making  tail."  Narka  did 
not  care  to  add  her  umbrella  to  the  show:  besides,  she 
might  be  kept  waiting  an  hour  for  a  seat.  Was  it  not 
better  to  take  a  cab  at  once?  As  she  was  balancing 
the  question  in  her  mind,  a  gentleman  close  to  her  called 
out: 

"  Will  this  take  me  to  La  Villette  ?" 

"No,  monsieur,"  said  the  conductor.  "The  blue 
omnibus  there,  with  a  correspondence."  The  gentle- 
man hurried  away,  and  Narka,  with  an  inarticulate 
exclamation  of  thankfulness  for  her  escape,  crossed  the 
street  after  him  to  where  the  blue  omnibus  was  stand- 
ing, empty;  they  got  in  almost  together,  and  took  seats 
opposite  one  another.  The  stranger  was  a  tall,  lean 
man,  with  a  sallow  complexion  and  marked  features, 
carefully  dressed,  with  a  certain  air  of  distinction. 
Narka  more  than  once  caught  his  eyes  fastened  upon 
her.  It  so  happened  that  they  stopped  at  the  same 
place ;  the  stranger  got  out  first,  assisted  her  to  alight, 
touched  his  hat,  and  went  on  his  way. 

Narka  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  waiting  for  a 
break  in  the  stream  of  carts  and  cabs  to  cross  over.     As 


Narka.  I6d 

she  glanced  eagerly  right  and  left  she  descried,  a  little 
higlier  up,  a  small  figure  in  the  costume  of  a  Sister  of 
Charity,  waiting  like  herself  to  cross  the  busy  thorough- 
fare. There  are  certain  situations  in  which  even  Mel- 
pomene could  not  look  dignified;  for  instance,  hopping 
over  the  puddles  with  petticoats  slightly  kilted  on  a 
wet  day;  and  yet  as  Narka  watched  Marguerite  going 
through  this  trying  performance  it  did  not  seem  any 
more  lacking  in  dignity  than  the  steps  and  hops  of  a 
little  child. 

"Narka!"  exclaimed  Marguerite,  in  glad  surprise, 
when  they  met  on  the  foot-path.  "How  did  you  get 
here?     Did  you  walk?" 

"No;  I  came  in  the  omnibus.  Whei'e  are  you  com- 
ing from  ?" 

"I  have  been  to  the  Rue  du  Bac.  I  got  an  omnibus 
to  the  Madeleine,  with  a  correspondence,  but  when  I 
got  out  there  was  such  a  crowd  I  saw  I  should  have  to 
wait  an  hour  for  a  place.  So  I  started  off  on  foot.  Life 
is  too  short  to  be  spent  waiting  for  the  omnibus.  Oh, 
that  horrid  man !"  she  exclaimed,  casting  a  glance  full  of 
something  as  near  hatred  as  her  sweet  face  could  ex- 
press at  some  one  coming  out  of  a  shop.  "I  should  like 
to  see  that  man  flayed  alive." 

Narka  followed  the  direction  of  the  glance,  and  to 
her  surprise  saw  that  the  object  of  this  murderous  desire 
was  the  gentleman  who  had  been  her  vis-a-vis  in  the 
omnibus. 

"  Who  is  that  man  ?"  she  asked,  as  the  stranger  passed 
them. 

"He  is  a  Prussian;  his  name  is  Dr.  Schenk.  He  stole 
away  our  dear  old  dog  Tempete,  and  put  him  to  death. 
Nobody  saw  him  doing  it,  so  we  could  not  attack  him, 
but  there   is  no   doubt  he  did   it.     His  business  is  to 


170  JSFarka. 

bribe  little  boys — oui-  boys — to  catch  dogs  that  he  tries 
experiments  on.  He  ties  them  down,  and  cuts  them 
up,  and  tortui'es  them  alive.     He  is  a  fiend. " 

"He  is  a  surgeon,  I  suppose,"  said  Narka.  "He  does 
it  in  the  interest  of  science." 

"Nonsense!  How  can  you  talk  like  that,  Narka? 
It  is  pure  wickedness,  and  he  is  a  bad,  cruel  man." 

"I  don't  want  to  defend  vivisection ;  I  loathe  it," said 
Narka;  "but  it  is  necessary  for  science." 

"  Then  science  is  wicked,  and  of  the  devil,  and  ought 
to  be  done  away  with.  It  is  getting  to  be  the  curse  of 
the  woi'ld." 

"What  a  little  mediaeval  bigot  you  are!"  laughed 
Narka. 

' '  Am  I  ?  Well,  I  don't  care.  It  makes  ray  heart  burn 
when  I  think  of  our  poor  gentle  old  Tempete,  and  I  hate 
your  cruel  science  that  tortures  our  dumb  fellow-ser- 
vants. I  think  a  person  who  invents  a  good  poultice 
to  relieve  a  poor  aching  body  of  man  or  beast  is  a 
greater  benefactor  than  the  man  who  invents  how  to 
blow  up  ships,  or  finds  out  secrets  by  tortui-iug  live 
dogs." 

' '  Then  you  care  more  about  dogs  than  about  human 
beings  ?" 

"  I  care  more  for  any  dog  than  for  that  man  Schenk." 

They  were  close  by  the  house  now.  A  carter  came 
round  the  corner,  showering  blows  on  a  powerful  horse 
that  was  straining  and  panting  under  a  load  of  stones. 

"Oh,  why  do  you  beat  him  like  that?"  Marguerite 
cried,  piteously.  "  Poor  beast,  lie  is  doing  his  best.  If 
you  drive  him  so  hard  he  will  drop." 

"He's  got  to  drop  some  day,  like  the  i-est  of  us,"  re 
torted  the  man,  not  ill-humoredly.  Mais  tranquillisez- 
vous,  ma  soeur,  he  hasn't  got  a  soul  to  save." 


Narha.  171 

"How  do  you  know  wlietlier  lie  has  or  not?"  Mar- 
guerite said,  and  she  laid  her  rough  little  gloveless  hand 
on  the  quivering  flank  of  the  animal.  The  meek  strong 
creature  turned  his  head  toward  her,  and  a  glance  from 
his  drooping  eyes  seemed  to  thank  her.  She  watched 
tlie  man  out  of  sight  to  make  sure  he  did  not  begin  the 
blows  again. 

"  I  sometimes  think  those  dray-horses  may  be  angels 
in  disguise,"  she  said;  "they  have  such  a  patient  look 
in  their  faces." 

As  they  entered  the  house  the  children  were  being  let 
loose  from  class  into  the  play-ground.  The  rain  had 
ceased,  and  the  paved  court  was  dry. 

"I  am  just  in  time!"  said  Marguerite.  "I  am  on 
guard  during  the  play  hour.  You  won't  mind  staying 
out-of-doors?  We  can  sit  down.  I  will  just  fetch  my 
knitting."  She  ran  into  the  house,  and  returned  in  a 
moment.  Her  appearance  was  the  signal  for  a  general 
assault  from  the  children.  There  must  have  been  near- 
ly three  hundred  of  them,  Narka  reckoned  at  a  glance, 
and  tliey  all  shouted  and  gathered  round  Marguerite, 
full  of  discourse  of  the  greatest  importance.  They 
cauglit  her  by  the  sleeve,  they  clutched  at  her  gown, 
the}"^  elbowed  and  fought  to  get  close  enough  to  at- 
tract her  attention.  Mai'guerite  bore  the  onset  quite 
un fluttered,  and  in  some  mysterious  way  satisfied  the 
whole  flock  in  a  minute  and  a  half,  and  sent  them  off 
to  their  play. 

The  two  friends  sat  down  in  a  sheltered  spot,  but  they 
were  hardly  seated  when  a  scream  from  the  other  end 
of  the  court  sent  Marguerite  flying  off  again.  A  small 
cliild  had  been  knocked  down  by  a  companion  twice  its 
size,  and  was  proclaiming  in  lusty  yells  that  it  was  badly 
hurt.     Marguerite  picked  up  the  toddler,  and  kissed  it 


172  Narha. 

and  made  it  well,  and  then  with  a  sharp  rebuke  sent 
the  delinquent  to  stand  with  her  face  to  the  wall. 

"Now  let  us  have  a  quiet  talk,"  she  said,  coming 
back  to  Narka. 

"There  is  not  much  chance  of  quiet  with  all  these 
orphans  to  keep  in  order,"  said  Narka,  disappointed, 
and  a  little  chilled. 

"They  are  not  all  orphans,"  corrected  Marguerite,  as 
if  the  point  must  be  of  interest  to  Narka.  "There  are 
not  more  than  thirty  of  them  orphans,  unfortunately. 
I  mean  the  parents  are  so  troublesome  it  is  a  pity  they 
are  not.  They  drink,  and  they  neglect  the  poor  little 
things,  and  maltreat  them,  and  sometimes  half  kill 
them.  I  often  think  what  a  mercy  it  would  be  if  the 
children  of  the  poor  could  be  born  orphans." 

"What  a  pity  the  parents  don't  kill  them  right  off! 
Then  the  poor  little  wretches  would  go  to  heaven,  in- 
stead of  living  to  grow  up  and  die  and  go  to  hell  like 
their  parents,"  said  Narka. 

"Oh,  what  a  dreadful  thing  to  say!  Their  parents 
generally  die  much  better  than  they  live.  They  have 
suffered  so  much,  poor  things,  that  God  waits  for  them 
at  the  end." 

"Oh,  does  He ?  I  have  often  noticed  how  peacefully 
the  peasants  die  with  us." 

"The  poor  die  peacefully  everywhere.  They  have 
found  it  so  hard  to  live,  you  see,  that  it  comes  easy  to 
them  to  die,  even  when  they  die  as  criminals.  Death  is 
always  a  release  to  them.  I  am  very  anxious  just  now 
about  a  poor  man. — Mathilde,  didn't  you  promise  Sceur 
Lucie  you  wouldn't  scratch  your  eye  if  she  took  the 
bandage  off?  If  I  see  you  scratching  it  again,  I'll  have 
it  put  on  this  minute. — His  name  is  Antoine  Drex. 
Such  a  sober,  hard-working  fellow,  and  so  good  to  his 


Narha.  173 

mother !  But  he  married  a  dreadful  woman  who  drank, 
and  then  lie  took  to  drink.  One  night  he  came  liome 
and  found  her  dead-drunk  on  the  floor.  He  went  to 
bed,  and  in  the  morning  there  she  lay  in  the  same 
place  dead,  with  a  great  cut  in  her  temple.  He  was 
taken  up  for  murder.  They  said  he  gave  her  the  blow 
in  her  head.  They  have  kept  him  in  prison  ten  months 
witliout  trying  him.  I'm  afraid  they  will  neither  acquit 
him  nor  condemn  him  to  death,  but  let  him  off  with 
hard  labor." 

"You  would  rather  he  Avas  guillotined?" 
"Why,  of  course.  He'll  have  to  die  somehow,  and 
he'll  never  have  so  good  an  opportunity  of  dying  well. 
He  is  quite  penitent  for  his  sins,  and  ready  to  accept 
death,  but  the  idea  of  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty  years' 
imprisonment  witli  the  lowest  class  of  criminals  drives 
him  to  despair." 

"  But  the  disgrace  of  a  public  execution." 
"Bah!  When  it  comes  to  dying,  that  matters  very 
little.  Public  opinion  only  matters  to  the  living. 
What  consequence  is  it  tlie  sort  of  death  one  dies  in  the 
sight  of  men  ?  It  is  the  death  one  dies  in  the  siglit  of 
God  that  counts.  For  my  part,  I  can't  think  of  any 
better  way  of  going  through  the  ceremony  of  death — 
except  martyrdom  on  the  battle-field^rthan  being  guillo- 
tined. You  have  a  nice  quiet  time  to  prepare,  plenty  of 
spiritual  helps,  and  you  go  out  to  die  with  your  energies 
of  mind  and  body  unimpaired.  It  would  be  delightful." 
"Your  family  would  not  be  of  the  same  opinion," 
Narka  remarked,  in  the  same  bitter,  sarcastic  tone  she 
had  already  used. 

"That  is,  because  they  are  worldly ;  they  judge  things 
by  the  standard  of  the  world.  Our  sisters  tell  me  the 
criminals  they  attend  in  prison  invariably  die  happy 


174  Narha. 

deaths.  I  suppose  it  is  because  our  Saviour  died  on  a 
gil>bet  that  there  are  such  wonderful  graces  for  those 
who  die  that  sort  of  death." 

She  was  knitting  away  diligently,  her  eye  everywhere 
over  the  noisy  population  around  her.  Suddenly  she 
darted  away  to  separate  two  children  who  were  quar- 
relling. 

Narka  could  stand  this  no  longer.  It  had  been  pos- 
sible for  a  moment  at  first  to  keep  her  own  trouble 
waiting;  this  glimpse  into  Marguerite's  strange  life  was 
curious  and  exciting;  but  to  sit  on  listening  to  talk 
about  paupers  and  orphans,  and  waiting  in  vain  for  a 
chance  of  speaking  about  what  her  heart  was  full  of, 
this  was  intolerable.  What  a  fool  she  had  been  to  fancy 
that  Marguerite  had  kept  her  human  heart  under  that 
pious  costume !  It  was  clear  that  her  vocation  for  min- 
istering to  paupers  and  orphans  had  left  no  room  in  her 
sympathies  for  any  troubles  beyond  rheumatism  and 
starvation. 

"Do  you  ever  get  to  care  for  any  of  those  dirty 
brats  ?"  she  asked  contemptuously,  when  Marguerite, 
panting  and  triumphant,  came  back  to  her. 

"For  any  of  them?"  Marguerite  repeated,  in  inno- 
cent surprise.  "I  cai'e  for  them  all.  I  love  every  one 
of  them." 

"Wliat  a  capacious  heart  you  must  have  !" 

"  Oh,  not  half  capacious  enough !"  Marguerite  sigh- 
ed, quite  unconscious  of  the  covert  sneer.  "I  wish  it 
were  ten  times  bigger.  If  only  I  could  empty  it  of  self, 
then  God  would  come  and  fill  it,  and  make  room  for 
everybody!" 

"Oh,  Marguerite!"  Narka  burst  out,  with  sudden  ve- 
hemence, "  why  can't  you  find  a  corner  in  it  for  me  ?  I 
dp  so  want  a  crumb  of  sympathy !" 


Narka.  175 

Marguerite  looked  up  quickly,  and  in  a  moment  her 
whole  heart  was  in  her  eyes.  She  dropped  her  knitting, 
and  put  her  hand  on  Narka's  arm. 

"  You  are  in  trouble  ?  Oh,  dear  Narka,  why  did  you 
not  tell  me  that  at  once  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  "What 
has  happened  ?" 

"I  am  in  terrible  trouble.  Marguerite,"  Narka  said, 
and  pride  and  self-control  broke  down,  and  her  voice 
sliook,  and  her  eyes  filled,  and  the  tears  overflowed. 

Marguerite  hesitated  for  a  moment;  then  quilting 
her  needles,  she  looked  np  at  a  window  on  the  fix'st 
story,  and  called  out,  "  Soeur  Claire!"  There  was  no 
answer.  "  She  is  not  there.  Nevermind.  Come  in- 
doors." 

"  But  the  children  ?"  said  Narka,  fearful  of  getting 
her  into  trouble. 

"Let  their  angels  look  after  them.  What  else  have 
they  got  to  do?"  said  Mai'guerite,  gallantly  reckless; 
"but  I  can  keep  an  eye  on  them  from  the  parlor." 

They  went  into  the  parlor,  whose  window  commanded 
a  view  of  the  playground.  It  was  a  square  room  with 
white  walls,  and  a  polished  oak  floor,  straw  chairs,  and 
a  round  table ;  a  white  Christ  on  a  black  cross  hung  over 
the  fireplace.  Marguerite  stirred  up  the  shabby  make- 
shift of  a  fire,  and  drew  two  chairs  close  to  it,  her  own 
facing  the  wmdow.  "Sit  down  and  warm  yourself, 
dear,  and  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,"  she  said,  as  if 
Narka's  trouble  were  suddenly  her  one  interest  in  life. 
And  Narka  poured  out  her  story,  Marguerite  listening 
as  if  she  had  no  longer  any  care  on  earth  but  to  share 
her  sorrow  and  comfort  it.  Never  before  had  Narka 
realized  what  a  healing  balm  there  is  in  human  sym- 
pathy, and  Marguerite's  sympathy  was  strong  as  fire 
and  sweet  as  a  child's  kiss. 


1Y6  Narha. 

With  exti'aordinary  quickness  she  grasped  the  whole 
case,  her  shrewd  practical  sense  noted  every  detail,  mea- 
sured diificulties  and  chances.  The  situation  was  bad 
enough,  but  by  no  means  hopeless.  She  said  so,  sup- 
porting her  opinion  by  sensible  arguments  that  carried 
judgment  with  them,  if  not  conviction.  Presently,  by 
the  strength  of  her  sympathy  and  her  buoyant  nature, 
she  had  lifted  Narka  from  the  depths  of  despair  and 
compelled  her  to  take  a  more  hopeful  view  of  every- 
thing. Basil's  love  had  already  proved  itself  equal  to 
the  pressure  of  antagonistic  circumstances ;  it  had  stood 
the  test  of  absence ;  it  was  not  likely  to  break  down  be- 
fore the  oj)position  of  his  father;  he  was  full  of  resources 
and  of  energy;  and  they  were  both  so  young:  in  fact, 
there  were  many  anchors  of  hope  to  cling  to. 

"But  Sibyl!"  Narka  exclaimed;  "oh,  Sibyl!— the 
thought  of  her  breaks  my  heart." 

"Dear  Narka,  you  are  suffering  as  much  from  the 
destruction  of  an  idol  (which  is  always  a  good  thing  for 
us,  darling,  however  painful)  as  from  the  blow  that  she 
has  dealt  you.  Half  of  our  misery  in  life  comes  from  this 
setting  up  of  idols ;  for  the  idol  is  certain  to  fall  down 
some  day  with  a  crash,  and  we  get  crushed  under  it." 

"But  I  thought  I  knew  Sibj^l  as  I  know  my  own 
heart.     I  never  could  have  believed  it." 

"There  is  nearly  always  something  in  our  fellow- 
creatures'  hearts — and  even  in  our  own — that  we  never 
know,  or  could  have  believed,  until  some  test  unex- 
pectedly reveals  it  to  us." 

' '  I  suppose  so,  and  that  is  the  cruelest  part  of  adver- 
sity ;  it  is  always  applying  that  test  to  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  compelling  us  to  try  them.  If  only  we  might 
go  on  to  the  end  trusting  and  believing  in  those  we 
love  without  ever  having  to  test  them!" 


Narka.  177 

"But  it  is  sometimes  good  for  us  to  be  tested,"  said 
Marguerite. 

Narka  did  not  answer.  Presently  she  said,  ' '  Do  you 
think  if  Sibyl  knew  the  truth  she  would  hate  and  curse 
me  as  bitterly  as  she  does  now  without  knowing  it?" 

"It  is  very  hard  to  say  what  Sibyl  would  do,  she 
is  so  many  characters  all  in  one;  yet  when  I  remember 
the  agonies  of  grief  she  certainly  did  suffer  when  you 
were  imprisoned,  and  how  tenderly  fond  she  was  of  you 
at  Yrakow —  I  can  see  her  now  when  we  were  coming 
away,  clinging  to  you  as  if  she  could  never  unclasp 
her  arms  and  let  you  go." 

' '  Ah,  yes ;  that  was  ju«t  what  deceived  me.  She  took 
me  to  her  arms,  but  she  never  took  me  to  her  heart;  I 
can  see  that  now.  She  has  been  feeding  me  on  false 
sacraments  of  love  all  my  life.  And  to  think  that  I 
must  be  dependent  on  her  for  the  means  of  earning  my 
bread!  Oh,  if  it  were  not  for  Basil,  I  would  rather 
starve  a  hundred  times!" 

"You  need  not  torment  yourself  about  that  just  yet," 
said  Marguerite;  "  I  may  be  able  to  helj)  you;  I  know  a 
great  number  of  people.  I  will  speak  to  several  friends 
of  mine,  and  we  will  find  you  some  lessons.  Try  and 
don't  fret  over  that  trouble;  and  you  must  stay  at  home 
and  take  care  of  yourself  for  a  few  days,  or  else  you 
will  certainly  fall  ill.  I  will  come  and  see  you  with 
Sibyl  in  a  day  or  two,  and — " 

"Sibyl!"  Narka  broke  in.  "She  can't  come  to  me. 
The  baby  is  ill  with  small-pox." 

"Nonsense!  It  is  nothing  but  chicken-pox.  I  saw 
the  child  this  morning.  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  I  went 
there  before  I  went  to  the  Rue  du  Bac.  Sibyl  sent  yes- 
terday, imploring  me  to  come  at  once;  she  was  in  au 
agony  of  grief,  and  wanted  my  sympathy.  But  I  have 
12 


178  KarJca. 

something  else  to  do  besides  flying  across  the  town  with 
my  sympathy,  and  as  nobody  was  dead,  I  suspected  it 
was  some  imaginary  grief,  as  in  fact  it  proved.  But 
this  morning  came  a  message  saying  the  baby  was  dy- 
ing, so  I  went.  It  was  nothing  at  all.  The  doctor  had 
just  been,  and  laughed  at  it.  Sibyl  was  lying  down, 
and  could  not  be  disturbed,  and  Gaston  had  gone  out 
riding." 

"  Gaston  is  very  good  to  me,"  Narka  said. 

"He  has  a  great  regard  and  admiration  for  you, 
and  he  would  do  anything  in  his  power  to  serve  you," 

"I  believe  that,"  said  Nai'ka,  tightening  her  grasp  of 
his  sister's  hand. 

Marguerite  noticed  that  the  hand  which  had  been  shiv- 
ering with  cold  a  little  while  ago  was  now  burning  hot. 

' '  I  wonder  whether  you  would  do  something  to  please 
me  ?"  she  said,  in  a  caressing  tone. 

"Of  course  I  would.    What  is  it  ?"    Narka  answered, 

"Well,  go  home  and  get  into  bed,  and  I  will  give  you 
something  to  take  that  will  prevent  your  having  a 
bad  cold."  She  ran  off  to  the  dispensary,  and  was 
back  in  a  trice  with  a  small  bottle  and  a  mustard  plaster. 
"If  your  chest  feels  sore  to-night,  you  must  promise 
me  to  put  this  on,"  she  said;  "and  I  am  going  to  send 
you  home  in  a  cab.  Nonsense !  I  have  plenty  of  money, 
and  I  can't  afford  to  lose  my  sister  Narka,  or  to  let  her 
lose  her  voice.     Just  think  what  that  would  be !" 

Narka  dropped  her  head  on  Marguerite's  shoulder 
and  burst  into  tears ;  but  it  was  not  a  bitter  flood,  and 
it  loosened  the  pressure  on  her  brain.  Truly  God  had 
entered  into  Marguerite's  heart,  and  made  it  a  Bethle- 
hem, a  house  of  bread,  where  the  hungry  might  come 
and  feed  upon  that  bread  of  love  for  want  of  which  so 
many  human  lives  are  perishing. 


Narka.  179 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  first  thing  Narka  did  on  returning  home  was  to 
give  notice  to  the  concierge  that  she  meant  to  leave 
that  day  week.  Then,  obedient  to  Marguerite's  wishes, 
she  went  to  bed.  Tlie  warmth  and  rest,  or,  as  Narka 
preferred  to  believe,  the  virtue  of  Marguerite's  cherishing 
sympathy,  which  had  passed  into  her  remedies,  had  the 
efPect  of  staving  ofiF  the  illness  which  had  seemed  to 
threaten  her.  She  rose  feeling  little  the  worse  physic- 
ally for  the  violent  emotions  and  sleepless  nights  she 
had  gone  through,  and  the  chill  of  yesterday. 

In  the  afternoon  the  concierge  brought  up  a  letter 
from  the  landlord  in  answer  to  the  conge.  It  was  a 
polite  but  distinct  refusal  to  accept  it.  He  regretted  to 
remind  his  amiable  tenant  that  she  had  signed  an  en- 
gagement to  occupy,  or  pay  for,  the  apartment  up  to  the 
15th  of  April.  Narka  uttered  an  exclamation  of  dismay ; 
but  referring  to  the  paper  in  question,  she  found  that  this 
was  true;  she  was  bound  to  her  present  expensive  quar- 
ters for  nearly  three  months  longer.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done  but  trust  to  Providence  to  bring  her  safe  out 
of  this  new  difficulty,  as  out  of  so  many  others. 

In  its  outwai'd  tenor  her  life  remained,  therefore,  un- 
disturbed, notwithstanding  the  violent  change  that  had 
shaken  it  inwardly.  Marguerite's  plans,  practical  like 
herself,  succeeded.  Through  a  kind  and  wealthy  South 
American  lady,  who  was  a  benefactress  to  her  poor,  she 
procured  at  once  several  rich  pupils  for  Narka,  all  for- 
eigners, who  came  to  her  house  twice  a  week  for  lessons 
and  a  general  singing  class. 


180  Narha. 

Sibyl,  who  was  full  of  zeal  and  confident  of  at  once 
gathering  a  crowd  of  pupils,  was  not  so  successful. 
The  French  mothers  to  whom  she  applied,  and  who 
had  seen  Narka  at  that  brilliant  soiree,  generally  an- 
swered: "She  is  too  beautiful.  It  might  be  a  risk  for 
my  son — for  my  brother." 

"How  stupid  they  are!"  Sibyl  said.  She  was  vexed 
at  failing,  and  this  made  her  angry  with  Narka,  of  whom 
she  complained  to  Marguerite.  "I  warned  her  what 
difficulties  she  would  have  to  encountei*,  but  she  would 
not  listen  to  me.  She  decided  on  coming,  without  con- 
sulting me,  and  then  she  came  against  my  advice." 

To  Narka,  Sibyl  was  affectionate  as  ever.  She  took 
a  lively  interest  in  the  singing  class,  and  would  come 
and  sit  and  listen  to  the  lesson,  and  bring  out  the  su- 
periority of  the  teacher's  method  by  her  clever  criti- 
cisms, thus  raising  Narka's  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  pu- 
pils and  of  their  mothers,  to  whom  the  charming  and 
elegante  Comtesse  de  Beaucrillon  was  an  oracle  on  art 
as  well  as  fashion.  The  singing  lessons  came  in  this 
way  to  be  a  pleasant  social  opportunity.  Narka,  more- 
over, might  have  led  a  gay  life  enough  if  she  had  been 
so  inclined,  for  invitations  poured  in  on  her;  but  she  re- 
fused them  all.  "I  know  my  value,"  she  said  to  Mar- 
guerite ;  ' '  these  fine  ladies  would  be  glad  enough  to  have 
me  to  help  out  their  entertainments,  but  if  their  sons  or 
their  brothers  were  the  least  bit  civil  to  me,  they  would 
put  me  to  the  door.  I  sha'n't  expose  myself  to  tliat. 
Let  them  stay  in  their  place,  and  I  will  stay  in  mine," 

"  Without  going  to  soirees,"  Marguerite  urged,  "you 
might  go  and  see  people  a  little;  it  cannot  be  good  for 
you  to  be  always  alone,  brooding  and  moping." 

"These  people  would  do  me  no  good,"  said  Narka. 
"No  solitude  is  so  irksome  to  me  as  uncongenial  com- 


Narka.  181 

pany,  and  they  are  all  uncongenial.  They  don't  care  a 
straw  about  me;  I  am  simply  invited  to  make  myself 
useful  and  agreeable.  They  expect  me  to  put  qn  my 
best  clothes  and  my  best  smiles,  aud  exert  myself  for 
their  amusement,  and  then  be  grateful  to  them,  because 
they  are  rich  and  I  am  poor.  I  am  making  great  pro- 
gress in  the  study  of  human  nature.  I  have  discovered 
that  when  people  are  poor  they  are  expected  to  have 
every  perfection  under  the  sun:  to  be  perfect  in  man- 
ners, in  principles,  and  in  temper;  never  to  make  a  mis- 
take, to  be  always  in  good  spirits,  and  to  be  useful  and 
amusing  into  the  bargain.  If  they  fulfil  these  condi- 
tions, the  world  may  kindly  overlook  their  poverty,  and 
invite  them  to  come  and  cheer  up  its  dulness." 

"  I  won't  have  you  turning  cynic,"  protested  Margue- 
rite. ' '  You  must  not  let  the  trials  of  life  embitter  you, 
Narka." 

"You  won't  mind  if  they  disenchant  me?"  replied 
Narka. 

But  indeed  sorrow  had  early  disenchanted  her  with 
the  world,  and  weaned  her  from  its  vanities  before  the 
time  had  come  for  tasting  them.  She  was  in  no  danger 
now  of  succumbing  to  such  temptations  as  came  in  her 
path.  Her  heart  was  sliielded  from  them  by  suffering, 
and  by  a  love  that  absorbed  her  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
petty  personal  cares.  She  had  not  had  a  sign  from  Basil 
since  that  terrible  letter  from  the  Prince,  and  there  was 
no  one  to  whom  she  could  even  mention  his  name  ex- 
cept Marguerite.  Sibyl,  as  if  the  subject  were  too  in- 
tolerable, avoided  it.  When  she  did  speak  of  it,  it  was 
to  pity  her  father  and  herself,  and  to  contemn  Basil,  and 
wish  the  woman  dead  who  had  entrapped  him. 

The  only  person  who  might  have  given  her  any  news 
of  Basil  was  Ivan  Gorff ;  but  he  had  left  Pai'is  as  soon 


182  Narha. 

as  he  had  conducted  her  there,  and  had  never  written 
since,  airtl  she  did  not  know  his  address.  There  was 
of  late  something  very  mysterious  about  Ivan.  Narka 
knew  tliat  he  associated  with  tlie  most  advanced  rev- 
olutionists, yet  he  came  and  went  perfectly  free,  while 
Basil,  for  merely  conniving  at  the  movement  which 
Ivan  was,  she  suspected,  actively  precipitating,  had  been 
seriously  comjiromised,  only  escaping  imprisonment 
through  a  lucky  chance.  Then  Ivan  was  leading  a 
strange  life  for  a  man  of  thirty,  in  possession  of  a  for- 
tune, which,  since  Sophie's  death,  must  be  reckoned  by 
millions.  His  personal  appearance  suggested  biting  econ- 
omy, offensive  slovenliness,  or  sordid  avarice,  whereas 
in  former  days  he  had  been  somewhat  dandified  in  his 
dress,  and  generous  as  a  king.  On  the  journey  from 
Koenigsberg  he  had  put  up  at  a  miserable  inn  at  Berlin, 
apologizing  to  Narka  for  taking  her  there,  but  pleading 
as  a  reason  that  the  people  were  honest,  and  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  staying  there.  What  motive  could 
induce  a  man  of  his  wealth  to  deprive  himself  not  alone 
of  luxuries,  but  of  the  comforts  that  he  had  all  his  life 
been  accustomed  to  ? 

One  afternoon,  on  coming  home  from  a  lesson, Narka, 
who  had  been  thinking  a  great  deal  about  Ivan,  and 
wishing  to  hear  from  him,  found  that  in  her  absence  he 
had  called  and  left  word  that  he  would  call  again  next 
morning.  It  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to  have  missed 
him;  he  was  sure  to  have  news  of  Basil;  he  had  prob- 
ably seen  him.  She  was  too  excited  to  sleep,  and  count- 
ed the  hours  till  morning.  But  morning  came,  and 
Ivan  did  not  appear.  He  had  left  no  address,  so  she 
could  not  write  to  him.  The  singing  class  was  at  one 
o'clock,  and  Narka's  terror  was  that  he  would  call  while 
it  was  going  on,  and  that  she  should  miss  him  again. 


Narka.  183 

But  the  singing  class  came  to  an  end,  and  there  was  still 
no  sign  of  him.  Immediately  after  the  lesson  Sibyl  came 
to  take  her  for  a  drive.  There  was  no  ostensible  reason 
for  refusing,  so  Narka  had  to  go.  It  was  the  longest 
di'ive  she  ever  took,  and  Sibyl  noticed  that  she  was 
strangely  preoccupied.  On  returning  home  she  found 
a  note  from  Ivan  saying  he  had  been  hindered  from 
coming  by  an  accident,  but  he  hoped  to  see  her  in  a  few 
days.  Nai'ka  was  too  impatient  to  wait  for  his  visit. 
The  note  contained  his  address,  so  early  the  next  morn- 
ing she  set  out  to  see  him.     The  Rue  B ,  where  he 

was  staying,  was  a  narrow  sort  of  laneway  behind  the 
Pantheon ;  the  house  a  shabby-looking  tnaison  'iiieublee. 

"Yes,  monsieur  is  at  home,"  the  concierge  said,  giv- 
ing her  the  number  of  the  room  on  the  fifth  story. 

Narka  did  not  stop  to  think  of  the  proprieties.  She 
mounted  the  dark  stairs,  steep  and  narrow  as  a  ladder, 
and  knocked  at  Number  96. 

"Come  in,"  said  a  voice. 

She  opened  the  door.  It  was  a  small  attic  room, 
full  of  tobacco  smoke,  with  the  roof  slanting  on  one 
side,  no  fire,  no  carpet.  Ivan  was  sitting  in  a  high- 
backed  arm-chair,  buttoned  to  his  chin  in  a  huge  furred 
coat,  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  head  swathed  to  an  enor- 
mous size  in  a  woollen  scarf.  He  looked  like  some  gro- 
tesque caricature  of  a  man. 

"Narka  Larik!"  he  said,  removing  his  pipe,  and  his 
blue  eyes  widened  and  sparkled  with  that  inarticulate 
laughter  which  gave  to  his  countenance  its  peculiar  ex- 
pression of  childlike  candor  and  merriment. 

"I  thought  something  must  have  happened,  as  you 
did  not  keep  your  appointment,"  Narka  replied.  "You 
have  met  with  an  accident  ?" 

"No;  only  a  savage  fit  of  pain  that  seized  me  like 


184  Narha. 

a  tiger.  It  knocked  me  over  in  an  hour.  I  was  half 
mad.  But  it  is  gone  now.  Schenk  pricked  me  with 
morphine,  and  killed  the  pain." 

"Schenk  ?"  said  Narka,  interrogatively. 

"He  is  a  doctor,  a  very  clever  fellow,  and  a  friend 
of  mine.  Sit  down,  won't  you  ?"  He  pushed  toward 
her  the  arm-chair  he  had  been  occupying,  the  only  one 
in  the  room. 

What  could  have  reduced  Ivan  Gorff  to  these  ex- 
tremities ? 

"  When  did  you  arrive  in  Paris  ?"  Narka  asked. 

"The  day  before  yesterday.  I  have  come  straight 
from  St.  Petersburg  without  drawing  bridle;  I  took  cold 
on  the  journey.     It  was  like  travelling  through  Siberia." 

Narka  bethought  herself  that  if  he  had  travelled  first- 
class  he  would  not  have  had  to  complain  of  the  cold. 

"^  You  saw  Basil  ?"  she  said. 

"Yes.  He  is  well,  but  as  savage  as  a  bear.  He  and 
the  Prince  quarrel  all  day.  Basil  has  got  himself  into 
a  fine  dilemma.  He  ought  to  have  kept  his  affairs  to 
himself,  at  least  for  a  while  longer." 

"It  was  not  he  who  told  the  Prince  of  our  engage- 
ment. Some  one  whom  he  had  trusted  with  the  secret 
betrayed  him." 

"He  ought  not  to  have  ti'usted  anybody  with  it. 
He  ought  never  to  have  put  a  line  on  paper  about  it. 
I  warned  him  many  a  time  to  be  cautious,  that  the  police 
had  their  eyes  and  ears  everywhere;  but  it  was  no  use. 
What  did  you  do  with  those  papers  of  his  ?" 

"  I  have  them  safe  with  me." 

"That  is  foolish.  You  ought  to  burn  them.  They 
may  get  you  into  trouble  again." 

"How  so?  What  do  the  police  know  about  me 
here  ?" 


Narha.  186 

Ivan's  round  eyes  widened  and  twinkled  until  it  seem- 
ed as  if  they  were  going  to  explode  with  laughter. 

"You  fancy  the  police  don't  know  just  as  much  about 
you  here  as  if  you  were  in  St.  Petersburg  ?  You  are 
very  naive,  Narka  Larik." 

"  Am  I  ?  Well,  you  have  something  more  interesting 
to  say  than  that,  have  you  not  ?  Tell  me  about  the 
Prince  and  Basil.  The  Prince  wrote  to  Sibyl  that  if 
Basil  did  not  surrender  within  three  months  he  would 
have  him  sent  to  Ki'onstadt,  and  consigned  to  the  town 
until  he  came  to  his  senses.  Do  you  think  he  is  capable 
of  carrying  out  thaVthreat  ?" 

' '  He  will  try  all  soft  means  before  he  has  recourse  to 
the  hard.  He  is  trying  to  bribe  Basil  now  with  the  pi'om- 
ise  of  getting  Father  Christopher  liberated  and  brought 
back  to  bless  his  marriage  with  Princess  Krinsky." 

"Basil  is  not  such  a  fool  as  to  fall  into  that  trap." 
Narka  laughed. 

"  Humph!"  Ivan  moved  his  huge  bundle  of  a  head 
slowly  up  and  down.  "The  Prince  is  convinced  that  if 
he  went  to  the  Emperor  and  told  him  the  whole  story, 
he  would  grant  Father  Christopher's  release  at  once. 
Marie  Krinsky  is  in  love  with  Basil,  and  Prince  Krinsky 
is  in  high  favor.  The  Empress,  too,  is  gi^eatly  annoy- 
ed at  Basil's  refusing  to  marry  her  pet  maid  of  honor. 
Basil  knows  all  this,  and  then  the  thought  of  Father 
Christopher's  captivity  haunts  him  perpetually." 

Narka  grew  pale.  "The  Emperor  does  not  know 
about  Basil's  supposed  share  in  LarchofF's  death  ?"  she 
asked. 

"No;  but  Basil  thinks  he  does.  He  never  heard,  of 
course,  of  that  tampering  with  his  letters." 

"Does  the  Prince  know  who  it  is  that  Basil  wants  to 
marry  ?" 


186  Narha. 

"  He  did  not  tell  me  if  he  did." 

"  Basil  would  have  told  you  ?" 

"Very  likely,  if  he  had  had  a  chance;  but  we  were 
hardly  five  minutes  alone.  He  wanted  me  to  come 
next  day  and  have  a  quiet  talk;  but  I  was  bound  for 
time.     I  had  to  leave  the  next  morning." 

What  could  this  business  be  that  drove  Ivan  from 
city  to  city,  compelling  him  to  renounce  the  pleasure  of 
a  meeting  with  his  best  friend  ?  Narka  felt  that  she 
must  know  at  all  costs. 

"Why  cannot  you  trust  me  as  Basil  does  ?"  she  said, 
looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

Ivan  met  her  challenging  glance  with  a  beam  of 
satisfaction.  "To  trust  our  friends  is  sometimes  the 
unkindest  thing  we  can  do.  Basil  px^oved  that  to 
you.  But  now  that  you  are  comparatively  out  of 
harm's  way,  I  will  tell  you  anything  you  care  to  know. 
I  have  thrown  in  my  lot  with  those  who  want  to  do 
away  with  tyrants  and  set  the  nations  free.  This  in- 
volves ways  and  means  which  those  who  don't  want  to 
risk  their  heads  had  better  know  nothing  about.  I 
don't  care  about  rislcing  mine.  If  it  had  gone  while 
that  tigerish  pain  was  clawing  it  yesterday  I  should 
have  been  glad  enough.  But,  on  the  otlier  hand,  it 
would  upset  a  lot  of  things  if  I  were  to  drop  off  now. 
I  am  tlie  telegraph  between  all  the  centres.  There  is 
not  a  plot  hatched  anywhere  but  I  am  the  first  to  hear 
of  it.  I  carry  messages  that  can't  be  written;  I  organ- 
ize meetings;  I  get  the  pamphlets  published;  I  work 
the  occult  machinery  of  the  Socialist  press,  and  direct 
its  underground  operations.  All  this  gives  me  plenty 
to  do.  It  is  not  the  work  that  brings  pay  and  glory, 
like  the  work  of  the  hero  in  livery  who  serves  a  tyrant, 
and  calls  it  serving  his  country ;  but  it  is  a  hero's  work 


Narka.  187 

all  the  same.  The  man  who  undertakes  it  must  re- 
nounce everything  and  risk  everythitig,  and  live  every 
day  with  death  dogging  him  like  his  shadow." 

Narka  looked  at  Ivan  with  a  new  interest;  no  man 
ever  presented  a  more  unheroic  appearance  than  he  did 
with  his  ungainly  figure  and  his  huge  beturbaned  head. 
Nevertheless  she  began  to  recognize  in  him  a  hero  of 
some  grand  though  perhaps  dangerous  type.  "And  is 
Basil  involved  in  this  work  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  Yes;  he  has  thi'own  himself  into  it  body  and  soul." 

"Ah!" 

They  were  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  Ivan  said: 
"Why  should  not  you  join  us,  Narka  Larik  ?  You 
might  help  greatly,  and  without  the  same  risk,  here 
in  France." 

"Show  me  how.  Show  me  anything  this  head  or 
these  hands  can  do,  and  I  will  do  it,"  she  answered, 
impulsively. 

Ivan  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  she  laid  hers  in 
the  broad  palm  that  closed  on  it  with  a  strong  clasp. 
As  they  sat  thus,  hand  in  hand,  the  door  opened,  and  a 
man  came  quickly  in. 

Narka  recognized  Dr.  Schenk,  and  colored  violently. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  !"  Ivan  said, 
slowly  releasing  her  hand.  "This  is  my  good  friend 
Dr.  Schenk,  Mademoiselle  Narka  Larik,  one  of  oui'S." 

Narka  bowed  and  stood  up. 

' '  Pray  don't  let  me  send  you  away,  mademoiselle.  I 
won't  detain  Gorflt'  a  minute,"  said  Schenk. 

"I  was  just  going,"  Narka  replied,  her  embarrass- 
ment relieved  by  his  perfect  ease  and  respectful  manner. 
"I  hope  there  is  nothing  serious  the  matter  with  M. 
Gorff  ?" 

"It  is  serious — a  case  of  suicidal  mania,"  observed 


188  Narka. 

the  medical  man.  ' '  If  he  exercised  common  humanity 
to  himself  he  would  be  as  strong  as  a  horse,  but  he  mal- 
treats himself  as  if  he  were  a  dog." 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  you  capable  of  maltreat- 
ing a  dog,"  Narka  said,  remembering  Marguerite's  abuse 
of  the  vivisector. 

She  gave  her  hand  again  to  Ivan,  and  bowing  coldly 
to  Schenk,  went  out. 


Narka.  189 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
On  i-eacliing  home  Narka  found  a  note  from  Sibyl 
which  a  servant  had  just  left.     She  opened  the  violet- 
scented  missive,  and  read: 

'*My  Darling, — I  bring  you  a  wonderful  piece  of 
good  news!"  (Narka  stopped  to  take  breath.  Had 
Basil  surrendered?)  "It  has  come  so  suddenly  I  can 
almost  fancy  it  a  fairy  trick.  Fortune  is  going  to  be 
kind  to  you,  my  Narka,  and  reward  you  after  all  you 
have  suffered.  Listen :  I  have  just  had  a  visit  from  Sig- 
nor  Zampa,  who  was  director  of  the  Italian  opera  here 
last  year,  and  is  now  managing  La  Scala,  at  Naples. 
He  gave  me  lessons  when  I  came  to  Paris.  Well,  dear- 
est, he  is  in  search  of  a  soprano  voice  to  take  the  place 
of  prima  donna  at  La  Scala.  An  artist  who  heard  you 
here  that  memorable  night  carried  the  fame  of  your 
voice  and  your  genius  to  Naples,  and  Signor  Zampa  has 
come  on  here  to  see  if  you  would  suit  him  and  accept 
his  overtures.  I  gave  him  your  address,  and  with  diffi- 
culty dissuaded  him  from  rushing  straight  off  to  j'ou, 
there  and  then.  I  said  he  would  not  find  you  till  two 
o'clock,  and  I  promised  to  send  word  to  you  to  expect 
his  visit  at  two.  I  am  beside  myself  with  delight. 
Come  to  breakfast  to-morrow  morning,  and  meantime 
attune  your  voice  to  its  heavenliest  key,  and  sing  the 
soul  out  of  Zampa's  breast,  and  millions  out  of  his 
pocket.  Your  own  Sibyl." 


190  Narka. 

Narka  dropped  the  letter  with  an  inarticulate  ex- 
clamation. She  was  bewildered.  It  might,  no  doubt, 
be  a  most  brilliant  career  that  opened  out  so  unexjiected- 
ly  to  her,  but  at  this  fii'st  moment  she  could  not  realize 
anything  but  Ihe  shock  of  the  proposal.  To  turn  public 
singer,  to  go  on  the  stage — she  who  was  engaged  to 
Prince  ZorokofP  ?  Was  it  possible  to  contemplate  such 
a  thing?  And  yet  how  was  she  to  refuse  it  without  in- 
curring Sibyl's  deep  displeasure,  rousing  her  suspicions, 
and  in  that  case  alienating  her,  perhaps  irrevocably  ? 
And  there  was  not  even  time  to  think  it  over.  It  was 
one  o'clock,  and  Signor  Zarapa  was  likely  to  be  punctual. 
She  threw  aside  her  bonnet,  and  went  to  the  piano,  and 
excitedly  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  music-book.  She 
could  not  well  refuse  to  sing,  if  he  asked  her,  and  in 
tlie  midst  of  her  perplexity  the  desire  of  the  artist  to 
win  the  approval  of  so  great  a  ci'itic  assei'ted  itself. 

As  the  clock  struck  two,  Signor  Zampa  rang  at  the 
door. 

Narka,  flushed  with  excitement,  looked  her  best  when 
he  came  in. 

"You  have  heard  from  the  Comtesse  de  Beaucrillon 
the  object  of  my  visit,  mademoiselle?"  he  said,  conquer- 
ed at  once  by  her  beauty. 

"Yes.  It  has  taken  me  by  surprise.  I  never  dream- 
ed of  going  on  the  stage.  I  have  not  had  the  neces- 
sary training  for  it.  I  don't  think  I  am  at  all  fitted  to 
be  an  opera  singer." 

"Perhaps  I  am  a  better  judge  of  that  than  you.  Will 
you  let  me  hear  you  sing  ?" 

She  rose  without  any  pretence  of  shyness,  and  went 
to  the  piano.     Zampa  pulled  off  his  gloves. 

"You  will  accompany  me?"  she  said. 

"Certainly.     What  will  you  sing?" 


Narka.  191 

"  Choose  anything  you  like,"  motioning-  indifferently 
to  the  books  and  songs  that  were  scattered  about. 

"Let's  try  this,"  he  said,  opening  the  partition  of 
Norma  at  the  "  Casta  Diva." 

It  happened  to  be  a  favorite  piece  of  Narka's;  she 
sang  it  well  at  all  times,  but  stimulated  by  his  presence 
she  rendered  it  now  with  a  perfection  of  art  that  must 
have  delighted  the  maestro,  even  if  her  voice  had  not 
enchanted  him  by  its  rare  qualities.  When  she  ended, 
he  burst  out  with  a  rapturous  "Bravo!"  and  seizing 
her  hand,  kissed  it  with  the  demonstrative  enthusi- 
asm of  his  nation.  He  entreated  her  to  sing  several 
other  pieces,  each  chosen  with  a  view  to  bring  out 
the  various  qualities  of  her  voice.  Narka,  inspired  by 
his  admiration  and  discerning  criticism,  sang  at  her 
best,  feeling  that  ecstasy  in  the  expansion  of  her  splen- 
did powers  which  is  by  turns  the  triumph  and  the  de- 
spair of  the  true  artist.  Every  fibre  in  her  was  thrill- 
ing to  the  music  of  her  voice.  Something  of  the  grand, 
untamed  creature  that  was  visible  in  her  majestic  lines 
and  strong  supjDle  limbs  began  to  throb  in  her  pulses 
and  course  in  her  blood ;  and  when  the  Italian  started 
up  and  described  the  brilliant  future  that  was  before 
her,  she  was  more  ready  to  respond  to  his  offers  than 
she  could  have  believed  possible  an  hour  ago.  As  he 
stood  there,  with  his  fiery  eloquence  and  mei'curial  ges- 
ticulation, she  could  almost  fancy  a  wizard  had  sprung 
up  on  her  path,  waving  his  wand,  and  bidding  the 
mountains  roll  down  and  the  desert  blossom  at  her  feet. 

"You  will  be  a  star  that  will  outshine  every  star  in 
the  musical  firmament  of  our  age!"  he  declared,  execu- 
ting a  sort  of  war-dance  on  the  hearth-rug  in  his  excite- 
ment. "Europe  will  ring  with  your  fame;  crowned 
heads  will  bow  down  before  the  i-oyalty  of  your  genius !" 


192  NarJca. 

Narka  listened,  and  felt  something  like  what  the  bird 
must  feel  when  a  kind  hand  is  about  to  open  its  cage 
and  set  it  free  to  take  flight  into  its  native  element.  She 
had  been  beating  the  bars  of  her  cage  all  her  life,  even 
before  she  knew  it. 

Zampa  saw  that  she  was  won,  and  he  kept  throwing 
in  the  incense,  till  the  fumes  enveloped  her  and  went  to 
her  brain.  It  was  a  delicious  intoxication.  But  sud- 
denly the  sweet  smoke  began  to  choke  her.  She  had 
forgotten  Basil.  What  would  he  say  ?  How  would 
this  contemplated  step  affect  their  common  destiny  ? 
Would  the  prima  donna  millionaire  be  a  more  suitable 
wife  for  Prince  Zorokoff  than  Narka  Larik  ?  "I  am 
so  taken  by  sui'prise,"  she  said,  not  attempting  to  dis- 
guise her  emotion,  "that  I  cannot  answer  you  to-day. 
I  must  have  time  to  think  over  your  proposal  and  to 
consult  my  friends  before  I  decide.  I  will  write  to 
you  in  a  day  or  two." 

But  the  impresario  went  away  confident  and  exult- 
ing.    He  had  no  doubt  of  having  secured  the  prize. 

When  he  was  gone,  Narka  asked  herself  whether  she 
was  waking  or  dreaming.  Had  she  done  wisely  in 
leaving  him  to  believe  she  would  entertain  his  offer  ? 
As  to  consulting  her  friends,  whom  had  she  to  consult  ? 
Sibyl  would  think  her  insane  if  she  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  and  would  never  forgive  her  for  rejecting  an 
offer  that  she,  Sibyl,  so  wholly  approved  of.  There 
was  Marguerite:  Marguerite  was  sure  to  cry  out  in  hor- 
ror at  the  mere  notion  of  the  stage;  to  her  it  would 
seem  like  walking  into  the  lion's  den.  Still,  Narka 
must  speak  to  some  one,  and  there  was  only  Marguerite; 
and  Marguerite's  sympathy  was  sure  to  be  comforting, 
and  it  might  possibly  be  illuminating. 

Early  next  morning  she  set  out  to  La  Villette.     To 


Narka.  193 

her  great  surprise,  Marguerite,  far  from   being  horri- 
fied, met  the  idea  complacently. 

"I  expected  you  would  have  shrieked  at  the  bare  no- 
tion of  my  risking  my  soul  in  such  a  wicked  place  as 
the  theatre,"  said  Narka. 

"Is  it  such  a  wicked  place?"  said  Marguerite.  "I 
didn't  know.  A  school  friend  of  mine,  a  very  pious 
gii-1,  lost  her  fortune,  and  went  on  the  stage,  and  sang 
for  a  year  at  the  Opera  Comique,  and  she  remained  as 
pious  as  ever,  and  died  like  a  little  saint.  But  that  was 
in  Paris;  perhaps  at  Naples  it  is  worse." 

"I  suspect  it  is  the  same  everywhere,  pretty  much," 
Narka  replied.  "  But  I  have  no  fear  on  that  score," 
she  added,  bridling  inwardly.  "  Self-respect  would  pro- 
tect me  as  well  on  the  stage  as  walking  about  Paris 
alone.  I  was  not  thinking  of  any  danger  of  that  sort; 
it  does  not  exist  for  me.  I  was  thinking  how  the  thing 
will  appear  to  Sibyl." 

"Sibyl  ?     Why,  Sibyl  has  invented  it." 

"  I  mean  about  Basil.  Would  it  not  be  a  greater 
degradation  for  him  to  marry  me  if  I  were  a  public 
singer  ?" 

"Ah!"  Marguerite  slipped  her  hands  into  her  wide 
sleeves,  and  put  her  head  a  little  to  one  side,  and 
gave  her  whole  mind  to  the  solution  of  this  problem. 
"Sibyl  could  tell  us,"  she  said,  after  a  moment;  "but 
we  can't  ask  Sibyl." 

"  No,  we  can't  ask  Sibyl." 

They  sat  silent  awhile.  Then  Marguerite,  like  a  per- 
son who,  having  passed  every  argument  in  review,  ar- 
rives at  a  conclusion,  .said:  "It  always  seems  to  me 
that  the  safest  plan  is  to  take  what  Providence  sends 
to  us,  and  trust  the  consequences  to  Him.  If  you  are 
running  no  risk  to  your  soul,  I  don't  see  why  you 
X3 


194  Narha. 

should  not  accept  his  offer.  Instead  of  being  an  ob- 
stacle between  you  and  Basil,  it  may  be  the  means  of 
drawing  you  together.  Perhaps  Sibyl  did  not  tell  you, 
but  her  terror  is  that  Basil,  in  spite  of  the  Prince  and 
the  police,  may  contrive  to  make  his  escaj^e  from  Rus- 
sia. And  if  he  does,  how  is  he  to  live  ?  The  Prince 
won't  supply  him  with  money,  certainly ;  and  he  would 
not  like  to  be  dependent  on  Sibyl — that  is  to  say,  on 
Sibyl's  husband.  He  would  not  mind,  perhaps,  being 
dependent  on  his  wife  for  a  time." 

Narka  threw  out  her  arms  and  caught  the  small 
figure  to  her  heart.  "Oh,  Marguerite,  what  a  blessed 
little  Solomon  you  are!"  she  exclaimed,  in  delight. 
'^That  would  indeed  be  a  joyful  culmination — to  rescue 
Basil  from  poverty  and  dependence,  and  to  be  revenged 
en  those  who  have  been  so  cruel  to  us  both !" 

"Oh,  never  mind  the  revenge,  Narka!"  Marguerite 
entreated.  This  was  not  the  feeling  she  had  meant  to 
excite;  but  discussing  with  Narka  was  like  stirring  the 
embers  of  a  smouldering  fire;  the  flame  leaped  up  and 
the  sparks  flew  out  when  you  least  expected  it. 

The  bell  rang,  and  Marguerite  had  to  say  good-by  and 
hurry  off  to  her  duties. 

Narka  went  straight  to  the  Rue  St.  Dominique.  She 
found  Sibyl  in  high  excitement. 

"Zampa  has  been  here,  and  he  is  beside  himself  with 
satisfaction!  He  draws  such  a  horoscope  for  you  as 
must  make  all  the  Malibrans  pine  with  envy  in  their 
graves.  Narka,  you  have  a  splendid  career  before  you. 
I  am  so  happy!  It  takes  such  a  load  off  my  heart!" 
She  kissed  Narka,  and  then  turned  to  look  at  the  prac- 
tical side  of  the  affair.  The  impresario  was  liberal  as 
a  prince.  Narka  was  to  proceed  without  delay  to  Flor- 
ence, and  put  herself  in  tx'aining  under  the  great  master 


Narka.  1 95 

there.  The  whole  tenor  of  her  life  was  changed  in  an 
hour;  she  was  lifted  from  poverty,  obscui'ity,  and  cark- 
ing  care  to  ease,  brilliancy,  and  the  prospect  of  imme- 
diate fame.  Sibyl  entered  into  it  all  with  that  quick 
sympathy  and  subtle  understanding  that  were  part  of 
her  power. 

"But  you  take  it  all  too  coldly,  Narka,"  she  said,  sud- 
denly, her  keen  perception  detecting  the  lack  of  response 
in  Narka.  "Are  you  not  glad,  dear?  I  thought  you 
would  be  so  excited." 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  be."  Then,  after  a  moment, 
"Does  M.  de  Beaucrillon  say  anything  about  it?"  Nar- 
ka asked,  irrelevantly. 

"Gaston?  He  is  delighted.  Did  you  think  he  would 
not  care  ?" 

"Oh  no;  he  is  too  kind  not  to  care."  Narka  repress- 
ed a  sigh.  She  seemed  tired.  But  there  was  something 
on  her  mind,  Sibyl  suspected.  "I  am  just  wondering 
whether  it  will  make  any  difference  when  I  am  before 
the  footlights,"  she  said,  with  a  constrained  laugh — 
"whether  you  will  feel  quite  the  same  to  me  when  I 
am  a  public  singer." 

"As  if  that  could  make  the  smallest  difference!" 
Sibyl  exclaimed,  looking  at  her  in  blank  amazement. 

Narka  laughed  in  the  same  constrained  way.  ' '  No 
doubt,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  shall  remain  just  as 
far  beneath  the  Comtesse  de  Beaucrillon,  nee  Princess 
Zorokoff,  whether  I  turn  public  singer,  or  remain  in 
my  native  obscurity  as  Narka  Larik." 

So  it  was  settled  that  they  were  to  close  at  once  with 
the  impresario's  offer.  Narka  sat  down  at  Sibyl's  ta- 
ble, and  wrote  a  note  saying  she  would  prepare  at  once 
to  start  for  Florence,  and  enter  on  her  preparation  for 
the  opera.     Then,  to  Sibyl's  disappointment,  she  insist* 


196  Narha. 

ed  on  going  home,  alleging  that  she  was  tired  and  want- 
ed rest. 

Sibyl  saw  that  she  was  both  excited  and  depressed. 
"You  are  quite  feverish,"  she  said,  holding  Narka's 
hand,  and  then  touching  her  hot  forehead;  "  you  ought 
to  stay  here,  and  let  me  put  you  Ijnng  down,  and  bathe 
your  temples  with  eau-de-cologne." 

But  Narka  would  not  be  persuaded,  although  she 
would  gladly  have  lain  down,  and  the  touch  of  Sibyl's 
cool  soft  hand  on  her  aching  head  would  have  been 
soothing. 


I 


JSTarka.  197 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Narka  was  in  a  glow  of  lieat  when  she  left  Sibyl's 
warm  rooms,  and  met  the  bitter  wind  that  blew  hard 
from  the  north.  It  was  a  long  walk  and  a  bleak  one 
by  the  river,  but  she  faced  it  with  a  kind  of  reckless  des- 
peration. She  reached  home  very  tired,  and  was  scarce- 
ly in-doors  when  she  was  seized  with  a  shivering  fit. 

"Mademoiselle  has  taken  a  chill,"  said  Eudoxie.  "I 
must  make  her  a  tisane." 

But  the  tisane  did  not  prove  as  potent  as  Eudoxie  ex- 
pected. Narka  spent  a  restless  night,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing her  throat  was  swollen,  her  head  ached,  and  her 
hand  burned. 

"Mademoiselle  has  fever.  I  had  better  go  to  the 
chemist  and  ask  him  for  something  to  cut  it,"  said  Eu- 
doxie. 

But  Narka  took  a  pencil  and  wrote  a  line  to  Mar- 
guerite, and  desired  the  maid  to  take  it  at  once  to  La 
Villette. 

As  Eudoxie  was  going  out  she  met  Ivan  Gorff,  and 
she  told  him  on  what  errand  she  was  bound. 

"  Mademoiselle  Narka  must  see  a  doctor  at  once,"  he 
said.  "I  will  go  and  fetch  one  while  you  take  that 
message  to  La  Villette." 

Eudoxie  gave  him  the  key  of  the  apartment,  and  hur- 
ried off  to  the  omnibus. 

Ivan  called  a  cab  and  drove  straight  to  Schenk's  lod- 
gings, and  was  back  with  him  before  Eudoxie  had  re- 
turned. 


198  Karka. 

Sclienk  knocked  at  the  bedroom  door;  there  was  no 
answer,  so  he  opened  it  and  looked  in.  Narka  was 
alarmed  and  amazed  on  seeing  so  unexpected  a  visitor 
walk  into  her  room,  but  he  calmed  her  at  once  by  his 
manner  as  much  as  by  his  words,  and  explained  how  he 
came  there,  felt  her  pulse,  and  then,  without  troubling 
her  with  useless  questions,  withdrew.  The  visit  did  not 
last  three  minutes,  and  nothing  could  have  been  more 
discreet  and  professional  than  his  manner  throughout. 

When  Schenk  went  back  to  the  salon.  Marguerite 
was  there,  talking  to  Ivan  GorfiP.  She  was  horrified  to 
find  that  the  vivisector  had  been  called  in,  but  she  kept 
this  to  herself ;  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  skilful 
doctor,  and  there  was  comfort  in  that. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  inquired,  when  Schenk 
had  closed  the  door  of  the  bedi-oom. 

"Inflammation  of  the  lungs;  it  has  advanced  very 
rapidly  ;  she  is  in  high  fever.  ■ ' 

"  Is  she  delirious  ?" 

"  She  will  be  in  a  few  hours,  I  expect." 

Mai'guerite  uttered  an  exclamation  of  distress,  and 
went  into  the  bedroom.  Narka  signed  to  her  to  stoop 
down.  "  Go  to  the  trunk  behind  the  door,"  she  whis- 
pered; "you  will  find  an  ivory  casket,  the  key  is  in 
the  drawer  of  the  writing-table.  Take  it  away  and  keep 
it  safe  for  me — or  for  Basil." 

"It  is  safe  enough  where  it  is,  darling,"  said  Margue- 
rite; "  I  will  see  that  nobody  touches  it." 

"But  if  anything  hapiDens  to  me — " 

' '  You  mean  if  you  died  ?  You  have  not  the  small- 
est intention  of  doing  anything  so  sensible,"  said  Mar- 
guerite, in  her  bright  way.  ' '  You  have  caught  a  bad 
cold,  and  I  am  going  to  look  after  you  till  you  get 
well.     Our  sisters  here  in  the  parish  will  come  and  see 


NarJca.  199 

you  every  clay.  I'm  going  to  tell  them.  So  between 
us  you  have  small  chance  of  escaping  to  heaven." 

Narka  made  an  eifort  to  say  something,  but  her 
throat  seemed  to  close,  she  could  only  form  the  word 
with  her  lips,  "  Sibyl  ?" 

"  I  will  let  lier  know  you  are  not  well."  Marguerite 
smoothed  the  pillow  and  the  counterpane,  and  kissed 
Narka  on  the  forehead ;  she  then  drew  the  curtain  so  as 
to  darken  the  room,  and  went  back  to  the  salon. 

During  her  absence  Dr.  Schenk  and  Ivan  settled  it 
between  them  that  no  one  who  understood  Russian 
should  be  allowed  near  Narka,  lest  in  her  delii'ium  she 
should  betray  secrets  that  might  work  mischief  to  her- 
self and  others.  When  Marguerite  reappeared,  the  medi- 
cal man  said:  "I  think  it  right  to  tell  you,  ma  soeur, 
that  I  see  symptoms  which  threaten  diphtheria;  the 
disease  has  not  taken  that  character  so  far,  but  it  may 
develop  it  before  to-morrow  morning;  in  that  case  it 
will  be  necessary  to  find  a  nurse  who  is  not  afi'aid  of 
the  contagion.     I  have  one  whom  I  can  trust." 

"Our  sisters  will  take  care  of  her,"  Marguerite  re- 
plied. "I  was  going  to  write  to  Madame  de  Beau- 
crillon,"  she  said,  turning  to  Ivan;  "but  if  there  be 
any  fear  of  diphtheria  she  must  not  come." 

"It  would  be  a  great  imprudence  to  expose  her  to 
the  risk,  especially  as  there  is  no  necessity  for  it,"  Ivan 
replied. 

Marguerite  determined  to  keep  Sibyl  away. 

It  proved  a  wise  precaution  as  regarded  Narka.  She 
was  soon  delirious,  and  raved  incessantly  about  Basil, 
about  Kronstadt,  about  Ivan  and  his  revolutionary 
work;  she  talked  chiefly  in  Russian,  but  now  and  then 
she  spoke  in  French,  and  Marguerite,  who  very  quickly 
detected  the  fiction  that  kept  Sibyl  away,  understood 


200  Jstarka. 

enough  of  Narka's  wanderings  to  make  her  grateful  to 
Schenk  for  inventing  it. 

Sibyl  was  unremitting  in  her  inquiries,  and  sent  every- 
day to  know  if  there  was  nothing  she  could  do  to  help. 
Meantime  the  illness,  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  ran 
its  course  without  complications ;  the  danger  remained 
throughout  potential,  not  going  beyond  the  peril  which 
must  attend  eveiy  serious  attack  of  the  kind.  M. 
de  Beaucrillon,  having  heard  the  word  diphtheria  pro- 
nounced, would  not  hear  of  his  wife's  going  near  the 
house  until  Narka  should  have  been  pronounced  con- 
valescent, and  until  the  atmosphere  should  have  been 
purified  of  every  lingering  possibility  of  contagion.  It 
was  arranged  that  as  soon  as  the  doctor  approved  of  it, 
she  should  come  to  the  Rue  St.  Dominique,  and  remain 
thei'e  until  she  went  down  to  Beaucrillon  with  the  fam- 
ily. All  this  was  settled  without  reference  to  Narka 
herself,  her  acquiescence  in  Sibyl's  wishes  being  taken 
for  granted.  She  was  going  on  very  satisfactory,  but 
just  as  the  day  for  her  removal  approached,  the  baby 
fell  ill  with  croup.  After  a  week  of  mortal  terror  and 
suspense  to  the  parents,  the  child  recovered,  but  was 
ordered  off  at  once  to  waters  in  Germany.  Narka  con- 
sequently received  a  note  from  Sibyl  full  of  despair  at 
the  double  disappointment,  and  entreating  her  to  go 
down  to  Beaucrillon  as  soon  as  she  felt  equal  to  the 
move,  and  wait  there  until  they  rejoined  her. 

It  would  have  been  a  surprise  to  Sibyl  if  she  could 
have  heard  Narka  exclaim,  on  reading  this  note,  "What 
a  relief!"  She  had  been  looking  forward  with  dread  to 
the  long  term  of  close  companionship  with  Sibyl.  Weak 
as  she  was  now,  her  one  desire  was  to  be  left  quiet. 
It  would  have  taxed  both  her  moral  and  physical 
strength  too  severely  to  be  shut  in  with  Sibyl,  to  be 


KarJca.  201 

obliged  to  undergo  her  effusive  tenderness,  and  respond 
to  it,  and  to  hear  her  outpourings  of  anger  and  despair 
about  Basil.  Once  again  the  blessed  baby  had  come 
like  a  messenger  of  mercy  to  her  rescue. 


202  •  Narka, 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Narka,  white  as  an  alabaster  statue,  and  all  eyes,  was 
sitting  up  in  her  pretty  salon,  looking  out  at  the  old 
garden,  and  listening  to  the  birds  singing,  when  Mar- 
guerite came  in,  bringing,  as  usual,  fresh  air  from  hea- 
ven with  her. 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  you,"  said  Narka. 

"That  was  a  very  good  and  wholesome  thought," 
said  Marguerite. 

"Yes;  and  I  was  wishing  I  was  a  dog." 

"That  thought  was  not  so  good." 

"I  was  thinking  that  I  must  leave  this  apartment  in  a 
week,  and  I  don't  know  under  the  bi'oad  face  of  heaven 
where  to  find  another.  Now  if  I  were  a  dog,  I  might 
lodge  under  the  stars,  which  would  be  pleasant  enough, 
as  the  warm  weather  is  at  hand ;  but  as  I  am  a  human 
being,  the  police  would  take  me  up.  As  I  went  on  think- 
ing, it  occurred  to  me  tliat  I  might  find  a  lodging  at  La 
Villette  cheaper  than  in  this  part  of  the  city.  Do  you 
think  I  could  get  anything  clean  and  cheap  near  you  ?" 

Marguerite  considered  a  moment.  "  Madame  Bla- 
quette  has  rooms  to  let  at  the  corner  of  the  Place;  they 
are  cheap  and  bright,  and  they  take  in  a  good  bit  of  sky, 
and  they  are  not  five  minutes  from  us." 

"Then  Madame  Blaquette's  rooms  are  just  the  thing 
for  me!" 

A  week  after  this  conversation  Narka  was  installed 
at  Madame  Blaquette's. 

Madame  Blaquette  was  a  character  in  her  way.     She 


Karha.  203 

had  been  servant  in  a  gentleman's  family  till  she  was 
forty,  and  now  lived  by  letting  tliese  rooms  that  took  in 
a  good  bit  of  sky.  Slie  posed  for  the  decayed  gentlewo- 
man. She  had  had  a  bachelor  uncle,  a  grocer,  whose 
money  she  had  always  exi^ected  to  inherit,  and  being 
blessed  with  a  lively  imagination,  she  had  enjoyed  the 
inheritance  almost  as  much  in  px'ospect  as  if  she  al- 
ready possessed  it.  She  felt,  therefore,  deeply  wronged 
when,  at  the  age  of  sixty,  this  bachelor  uncle  took  to  him- 
self a  wife,  and,  dying  at  the  end  of  a  year,  left  all  he 
had  to  her  and  her  baby.  Madame  Blaquette  always 
alluded  to  the  event  as  "the  loss  of  my  fortune,"  and 
would  heave  a  sigh  when  speaking  of  "  the  days  before 
my  reverses." 

"She  is  a  sentimental  old  goose,"  said  Marguerite, 
"but  honest  as  the  sun,  and  her  lodgers  are  always 
respectable;  they  are  generally  friends  of  mine." 

Narka  had  not  yet  discovered  that  to  be  a  friend  of 
Marguerite's  was  a  title  to  respectability  open  to  discus- 
sion. It  was  not  long,  however,  before  she  became 
aware  that  Marguerite  was  on  intimate  terms  with  all 
the  waifs  and  strays  and  drunkards  of  the  district,  for 
Narka,  being  curious  to  make  acquaintance  with  the 
neighborhood,  and  having  as  yet  no  work  to  do,  went 
about  occasionally  with  Marguerite  on  her  rounds.  In 
this  way  she  came  soon  to  see  the  influence  Marguerite 
exercised,  and  the  j)osition  she  held,  in  spite  of  her 
youth — perhaps,  indeed,  because  of  it — with  the  popula- 
tion of  La  Villette.  It  was  very  amusing  to  see  how  she 
queened  it  over  them  all,  tripping  along  in  her  heavy 
shoes,  carrying  a  bundle  or  a  basket  like  any  little  pea- 
sant woman.  The  children  left  their  play  to  pull  at  her 
gown  and  get  a  pat  on  the  head ;  women  at  their  wash- 
tubs  stopped  soaping  or  scrubbing  to  exchange  a  word 


204  Narha. 

with  her,  or  call  out  some  piece  of  domestic  news ;  shop- 
keepers in  the  act  of  selling  turned  to  nod  and  say, 
'^'^  Bonjour,  ma  soeur'''' ;  gamins  and  roughs  suspended 
their  wrangling,  and  waited  till  she  had  passed  to  finish 
their  oaths.  It  took  Narka's  breath  away  to  see  the  re- 
fined, delicate  girl  walk  up  to  a  group  of  quarrelling  men 
or  boys  and  order  them  to  the  right  about  as  if  they 
had  been  children  in  her  school.  And  the  horny-handed 
ouvrier  who  had  spent  his  week's  earnings  at  the  caba- 
ret would  take  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  listen 
meekly  while  she  gave  him  a  scolding.  There  was  some- 
thing of  the  mother  in  the  genial  cruelty  with  which 
she  looked  them  in  the  face  and  said  the  hard  thing  to 
them,  and  told  them  they  made  her  ashamed,  or  angry, 
or  sorry.  Her  auger  would  be  very  hot,  but  it  never 
took  the  form  of  cold  displeasure.  She  abhorred  cold, 
cruel  cold  that  hatches  hate,  the  least  touch  of  whose 
icy  breath  is  more  fatal  to  love  than  the  hottest  blast  of 
anger.  Marguerite's  sympathy  was  an  open  fountain, 
always  flowing;  when  the  poor  went  to  her  with  a 
grievance,  she  waxed  so  indignant  with  them  that  they 
felt  themselves  avenged;  when  they  took  her  a  sorrow, 
she  pitied  them  so  tenderly  that  they  left  the  sting  of 
it  behind  them. 

One  day,  after  a  long  morning  of  hard  work  in  the 
dispensary  and  the  school,  Narka,  wlio  was  going  out 
with  her  on  a  round  of  sick  visits,  said,  "What  a  tiring 
life  it  is  that  you  lead,  Marguerite !  Do  you  never  w^eary 
of  it  ?" 

"Never  for  a  minute!"  was  the  unhesitating  reply. 
"That  is  the  happiness  in  God's  service:  it  may  tire 
one's  body,  but  it  keeps  one's  heart  merry." 

"I  wish  I  could  think  the  poor  were  grateful  to  you," 
said  Narka. 


Narka.  205 

"Who  says  they  are  not  grateful?"  demanded  Mar- 
guerite, quickly. 

"  It  seems  to  me  everybody  says  it;  it  is  the  constant 
complaint  of  all  the  good  people  who  do  for  the  iDOor 
that  they  get  no  return." 

' '  What  nonsense !  I  wonder  what  sort  of  return  they 
expect  ?  If  they  gave  love,  the  poor  would  give  them 
love  back ;  but  they  only  give  alms,  and  I  don't  suppose 
they  expect  the  poor  to  give  them  back  alms  ?  It  is  so 
silly  of  people  to  be  always  looking  for  gratitude,  and 
then  to  go  about  complaining  that  they  don't  get  it: 
the  disappointment  sours  themselves,  and  the  complain- 
ing sours  other  people,  for  nine  people  out  of  ten  ar-e 
ungrateful,  and  the  complaining  hits  home  and  hurts 
their  self-love." 

Narka  was  amused  at  this  touchiness  concerning  the 
poor  which  Marguerite  displayed  on  the  slightest  pi-ovo- 
cation.  They  were  passing  by  a  public-house  at  the 
moment.  A  sound  of  voices  raised  high  in  altercation 
came  through  the  closed  door. 

"I  do  believe  that  is  Antoine  Drex  that  I  hear,"  said 
Marguerite.  She  stood  to  listen,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment the  door  opened,  sending  out  a  villanous  whiflf  of 
alcohol  a,nd  tobacco,  and  there  stood  Antoine  Drex, 
IfUmper  aloft,  apostrophizing  the  company. 

"Ah!  this  is  how  you  keep  your  promise,  Antoine 
Drex  !"  Marguerite  called  out  from  the  street. 

The  big  black-bearded  man  stared  open-mouthed,  as 
if  the  small  figure  in  the  doorway  had  been  the  ghost 
of  his  dead  wife.  A  loud  laugh  from  the  spectators 
showed  their  sense  of  the  comical  side  of  the  tableau. 

"Tliey  look  drunk;  come  away,"  said  Narka,  under 
her  breatli. 

But  Marguerite  held  her  ground  intrepidly.      * '  Come 


206  JSTarka. 

out  here,  and  go  home  to  your  poor  old  mother,"  she 
called  out  to  the  culprit,  who  stood  sheepishly  holding 
his  bumper  on  the  counter ;  ' '  she  is  very  suffering  this 
morning,  and  you  ought  to  be  helping  her  instead  of 
drinking  here." 

To  Narka's  amazement,  the  stalwart  man,  who  might 
have  crunched  up  Marguerite  with  a  finger  and  thumb, 
came  out  of  the  cabaret  like  a  docile  dog,  and  walked 
on  before  her.  He  looked  dangerous  enough,  Narka 
thought,  for  he  had  been  drinking  copiously.  This 
was  clear  from  his  red  eyeballs  and  swaggering  gait  as 
with  clinched  hanging  hands  he  tramped  up  the  street 
before  them,  growling  confidentially  to  the  paving- 
stones. 

"Is  that  the  man  you  wanted  them  to  guillotine?" 
Narka  asked,  when  Antoine  was  beyond  hearing. 

"Yes.  How  I  wish  they  had !  He  would  have  been 
safe  in  purgatory  now,  instead  of  getting  drunk  at  the 
Chat  Botte.  Those  ten  months  they  kept  him  in  prison 
before  the  trial  put  a  heart  of  rage  into  the  poor  fellow 
that  will  get  him  into  trouble  some  day.  And  it  is 
hard,  for  the  rage  is  only  suffering  in  disguise.  It  nearly 
always  is  with  the  poor.  Antoine  would  not  hurt  any- 
body. He  is  so  good  to  his  mother!  Even  when  he 
is  drunk  he  never  touches  her.  And  he  often  shares 
his  crust  with  a  neighbor  poorer  than  himself.  If  I 
only  could  keep  him  out  of  the  wine-shop!" 

"The  wine-shop  is  the  bane  of  the  poor  everywhere," 
said  Narka. 

"It  is  their  resource,  God  help  them!  They  drink  to 
drown  misery.  I  do  believe  he  is  trying  to  give  me 
the  slip,  and  steal  into  some  other  cabaret."  She  quick- 
ened her  step  until  Antoine  turned  the  right  corner  and 
was  out  of  sight.    "Ah,  he  is  gone  home,"  she  said,  ia 


JSTarka.  207 

a  tone  of  i*elief.  "There  is  not  another  wine-shop  be- 
tween this  and  his  lodging." 

Life  at  La  Villette  was  altogether  a  strange  experi- 
ence to  Narka.  At  fii'st  the  aspect  of  the  place,  its  sox'- 
did  ugliness,  was  so  offensive  to  her  taste  as  to  be  a 
positive  sufferings  but  she  soon  discovered  that  this  suf- 
fering had  its  compensations;  underlying  the  ugliness 
that  revolted  and  distressed  her  there  was  a  hidden 
beauty,  grander,  nearer  to  the  true  ideal  than  the  aesthet- 
ic one  that  she  missed;  then  the  laborious  courage  of 
the  population,  the  kindness  that  springs  from  a  sense 
of  common  privation  and  mutual  need,  made  a  whole- 
some and  genial  atmosphere;  the  open  acceptance  of  a 
hard  lot,  and  the  spectacle  of  general  poverty  unredeem- 
ed by  any  prospect  of  escape,  made  her  own  lot  seem 
less  cruel.  She  felt,  too,  more  independent  and  secure 
at  La  Villette  than  she  had  ever  done  at  Chaillot  or  in 
the  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  Hei-e  she  came  and  went 
unmolested ;  there  was  nothing  shocking  to  public  opin- 
ion in  a  young  girl's  walking  out  alone.  The  utter  un- 
worldliness  of  the  place,  the  absence  of  any  necessity 
for  keeping  up  appearances,  was  in  itself  a  rest.  In 
the  early  morning  she  went  out  on  her  little  household 
errands,  and  carried  home  her  bread  and  her  can  of 
milk,  or  her  little  basketful  of  marketing,  and  the 
workmen's  wives  and  daughters,  bent  on  similar  errands, 
wished  her  good-morning. 

As  she  walked  through  the  slums,  where  she  was  like 
no  other  inhabitant  of  the  place,  the  people,  struck  by 
her  stfitely  bearing,  her  beautiful  pale  face,  with  the 
great  eyes  and  the  shining  hair,  used  at  first  to  watch 
her  out  of  sight  as  if  she  had  been  some  sti-ange  bird  of 
gaudy  plumage  flitting  through  their  dark  region  and 
brightening  it  for  a  moment.     But  in  a  little  while  they 


208  Narha. 

ceased  even  to  do  this.  "  L'amie  de  ma  soeur  Margue- 
rite" soon  established  her  right  of  citizenship,  and  the 
title  was  a  passport  to  everybody's  good-will. 

Narka  had  pledged  her  word  to  Dr.  Schenk  that  she 
would  not  attempt  to  sing  for  a  month  from  the  date  of 
her  recovery.  Singing  lessons  were  therefore  out  of  the 
question.  In  the  mean  time  some  of  her  former  pupils 
were  taking  German  lessons.  These  gave  her  a  crust 
of  bread,  and,  what  was  almost  as  necessary,  they  kept 
her  occupied.  For  she  was  terribly  lonely — more  lone- 
ly than  she  had  ever  been  amidst  the  snow-fields  of 
Yrakow.  There  she  had  her  mother,  but  she  was  quite 
alone  now.  It  was  a  good  thing  that  the  struggle  for 
bare  life  left  her  little  time  to  brood ;  for  body  and  soul 
must  be  kept  together,  the  fire  must  be  lighted,  the  bit  of 
food  must  be  cooked,  the  room  must  be  swept,  her  shab- 
by clothes  must  be  kept  mended,  whether  Basil  was  faith- 
ful or  not,  whether  Father  Christopher  was  being  beaten 
or  not,  whether  the  Prince  was  cruel  or  relenting.  And 
in  the  interval  of  home  toil  there  were  the  lessons. 
These  German  lessons  were  no  pleasure  to  her,  as  the 
singing  lessons  had  been.  They  were  a  mere  drudgery, 
and  she  was  longing  for  the  end  of  the  month  to  set  her 
free  to  sing,  not  alone  for  the  sake  of  the  lessons,  but 
because  the  exex'cise  of  her  glorious  powers  was  in  itself 
an  enjoyment.  There  was  only  one  more  week  now  to 
wait.    Then  the  period  of  dumbness  would  have  expired. 

Signor  Zampa  had  gone  away  in  despair  on  hearing 
of  the  illness  which  had  so  suddenly  fallen  like  a  thun- 
der-bolt on  his  brilliant  scheme.  He  had,  however,  as- 
sured Sibyl  that  the  engagement  should  hold  good  for 
next  season,  and  that  as  soon  as  Narka  was  well  enough 
to  enter  on  her  preparatory  studies  he  should  expect 
her  to  set  out  for  Florence. 


JSFarka.  209 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Marguerite  was  in  the  dispensary,  measuring  and 
mixing'  herbs  from  two  green  canisters,  when  Narka 
came  hurriedly  in,  and  going  up  to  her,  laid  a  hand  on 
her  arm :  she  seemed  too  agitated  to  speak. 

"What  is  the  matter?  what  has  happened?"  >Iar- 
guerite  asked,  dropping  her  little  shovelful  of  herbs  back 
into  the  canister. 

"I  have  lost  it ! — it  is  gone,  clear  gone !"  Narka  gasped. 

*'  The  ivory  box  ?     Basil's  papers  ?     Oh !" 

"No;  my  voice.  I've  lost  it!  I  can't  sing  a  note!" 
She  sat  down,  almost  letting  herself  fall  into  a  chair. 

Marguerite  clasped  her  hands. 

' '  When  did  you  discover  that  it  was  gone  ?" 

"Just  now;  not  half  an  hour  ago.  I  had  promised 
not  to  sing  a  note  until  the  month  was  out.  Yesterday 
was  the  last  day,  and  this  morning  I  went  to  the  piano. 
Not  a  note  would  come.  Oh,  it  is  too  dreadful!  too 
dreadful !" 

Marguerite,  with  an  answering  despair  in  her  face, 
stood  silent,  her  hands  still  clasped. 

Narka  looked  up,  and  saw  the  sweet  brown  eyes  fill- 
ing with  tears;  she  bent  forward,  and  let  her  head  di*op 
against  Marguerite's  arm.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "what  a 
weary  burden  life  is  1    If  one  might  but  escape  from  it !" 

Marguerite  put  her  arms  round  her,  and  held  her 
clasped,  making  a  little  swaying  movement,  as  if  she 
were  rocking  a  child. 

"It  is,  darling,"  she  said,  softly,  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence; "it  ik  very  weary;  but  we  are  not  carrying  it 
14 


210  Narka. 

alone.  There  is  One  under  the  burden  with  us  whose 
help  can  never  fail." 

Narka  felt  the  loving  breast  heave  under  her  head, 
and  then  two  hot  tears  fall  upon  her  cheek.  If  Mar- 
guerite was  so  full  of  pity,  why  was  Mai-guerite's  God 
so  cruel  ? 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not  so  bad  as  you  think,"  said  Margue- 
rite, presently,  her  sunny  hopefulness  and  practical 
sense  coming  quickly  to  the  relief.  "After  all,  it  may 
be  only  a  temporary  loss  of  voice.  I  knew  a  case  like 
that  in  a  young  chorister  whom  we  had  to  nurse  after  a 
typhoid  fever;  his  voice  went  for  some  months,  and  he 
was  in  despair;  but  it  came  back.  You  must  see  a  spe- 
cialist.     There  is  Dr.  X ,  who  comes  to  the  infirmary 

here  on  Tuesday ;  he  is  a  great  authority  on  the  lungs 
and  the  throat.  I  will  speak  to  Sceur  Jeanne  and  ask 
her  to  arrange  for  you  to  see  him  here  after  his  visit  to 
the  infirmary. " 

This  i^ractical  suggestion  was  just  the  touch  that 
Narka  wanted  to  lift  her  up  from  the  torpor  of  despair 
into  which  the  shock  had  thrown  her.  She  talked  it 
over  with  Marguerite,  asked  questions  about  the  choris- 
ter's case;  and  if  Marguerite  strained  the  facts  a  trifle 
to  sustain  the  hope  thej^  pointed  to,  tlie  sin  was  certain- 
ly not  written  down  against  her  by  the  recording  angel. 
Narka  went  away  wonderfully  comforted. 

The  community  were  at  once  interested  in  her  trou- 
ble. The  children  were  all  set  praying  for  Soeur  Mar- 
guerite's friend,  and  every  one  in  the  house  awaited  with 

anxious  curiosity  to  hear  what  Dr.  X would  say. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait.  On  Tuesday  morning  the 
consultation  took  place.  The  result  confirmed  Margue- 
rite's sanguine  view.    Dr.  X was  of  opinion  that  the 

loss  of  the  voice  was  likely  to  be  only  temporary.     The 


Narha.  211 

organs  were  weakened  by  the  severe  inflammation  they 
had  suffered,  and  rest  and  care  would  in  time  restore 
their  powers.  If  Narka  had  had  change  to  the  coun- 
try and  proper  care  during  the  period  of  convalescence, 
the  accident  would  most  likely  have  been  avoided.  She 
was  now  to  think  as  little  about  it  as  possible,  to  take 
any  amusement  witliin  her  reach,  and  to  follow  his 
treatment  carefully,  and  he  promised  tliat  before  long 
her  voice  would  be  as  fine  as  ever. 

This  verdict  was  received  with  joy  by  the  whole  com- 
munity, to  whom  it  was  at  once  communicated  by  the 
Sister  Superior.  Marguerite  was  almost  as  thankful  as 
Narka,  and  much  more  demonstrative  in  her  satisfac- 
tion, for  she  already  believed,  while  Nai'ka  still  only 
dared  to  hope. 

"I  wish  you  could  have  some  recreation,  something" 
to  take  your  mind  off  trouble  and  worry,"  she  said, 
as  she  and  Narka  sat  together  in  the  parlor  after  the 
consultation.  " Wbat  a  pity  Sibyl  is  away!  And  she 
won't  stop  in  Paris  on  her  way  from  Biarritz  to  Carls- 
bad, it  seems;  that  is,  she  will  only  just  rest  for  the 
night." 

"I  am  very  thankful  to  her  for  keeping  out  of  the 
way,"  said  Narka;  "  it  was  irksome  as  well  as  odious  to 
me  to  have  to  play  the  hypocrite  with  her*.  And  what 
else  can  I  do  now  ?"     Thex'e  was  no  denying  this. 

"I  almost  wish  it  were  the  winter  that  was  at  hand, 
and  not  the  summer,"  Marguerite  said;  "then  your  old 
pupils  would  be  coming  round  you,  and  you  would  have 
your  pleasant  little  gatherings,  as  you  used  to  have  at 
Chaillot." 

Narka  laughed.  "I  am  not  so  silly  as  to  expect 
anything  of  that  sort  up  here.  I  told  you  before  that 
I  knew  my  value." 


212  JSFarha. 

"What  do  you  mean?  The  people  who  were  fond 
of  you  in  one  place  would  be  fond  of  you  in  another, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  if  they  ever  had  been  fond  of  me.  But  you 
don't  suppose  the  people  who  came  after  me  at  Chaillot 
and  made  a  fuss  over  me  were  fond  of  me  ?" 

"Then  why  did  they  come  after  you  and  make  a  fuss 
over  you  ?" 

Narka  laughed  again.  "You  heavenly  little  dunce! 
You  don't  know  the  A  B  C  of  the  gospel  of  this  world. 
Its  catechism  is  Greek  to  you.  You  don't  know  that 
contempt  of  poverty  is  the  negative  side  of  purse-pride, 
and  that  to  patronize  poverty  is  one  of  the  amusements 
of  the  rich.  You  are  a  dunce  about  these  things; 
you  know  nothing  about  the  vulgarities  of  well-bred 
people  and  the  cruelties  of  pious  people.  Fond  of  me ! 
Poor  dears !  they  were  fond  enough  of  me  to  turn  in  and 
spend  a  pleasant  half-hour  on  their  way  to  the  Bois;  but 
they  would  not  drive  up  to  this  shabby  place  to  see  me. 
I'm  not  worth  it." 

"Then  you  have  no  loss  in  such  butterfly  friends," 
said  Marguerite;  "there  are  better  ones  in  store  for 
you,  please  God.  One  must  always  reckon  on  the  gen- 
erous chances  of  life." 

"The  generous  chances  of  life !"  Narka  repeated,  with 
a  light  laugh  that  was  very  acid.  "The  generous 
chances  of  life  never  come  to  those  who  want  them. 
I  have  found  that  out  before  this." 

"  I  will  not  have  you  turning  sour,  and  looking  only 
at  the  bad  side  of  life  and  human  beings,"  said  Margue- 
rite. 

' '  I  cannot  help  it ;  my  poverty  hides  the  other  side 
from  me.  But  if  it  shuts  the  light  out  on  one  side,  it 
lets  it  in  ou  the  other,  and  shows  the  flaws  in  human 


Karka,  213 

beings  as  a  magiiifyiiig'-glass  shows  the  animalcula  in  a 
drop  of  watei'.  When  you  are  poor,  you  see  the  world 
as  it  really  is,  with  its  meannesses  and  its  vulgarities 
and  its  cruelties;  people  don't  take  the  trouble  to  wear 
a  mask  before  you;  you  are  not  worth  it;  it  does  not 
matter  if  you  see  the  seamy  side  of  their  character;  but 
they  must  take  pains  to  make  it  show  fair  to  society. 
My  rich  pupils  and  their  mothers  fancied  the  lessons 
were  all  on  one  side;  they  were  mistaken;  they  taught 
me  quite  as  much  of  their  arts  as  I  them  of  mine." 

"  All  this  may  be  very  clever  and  sarcastic,"  said  Mar- 
guerite, "but  it  strikes  me  it  is  morbid,  and  not  very 
charitable.  It  is  of  no  use  to  discover  our  neighbor's 
faults  unless  it  helps  us  to  correct  our  own.  There 
is  the  bell!     I  must  go  to  the  children's  singing  class." 

"  I  wish  you  would  take  me  in  hand,  Marguerite,  and 
correct  me  and  make  me  good,"  said  Narka.  "I  should 
like  to  be  one  of  your  orphans,  and  sit  on  a  bench  and 
have  you  teach  me  to  sing  canticles,  and  scold  me  when 
I  was  naughty." 

"I'm  afraid  I  should  be  scolding  you  from  morning 
till  night,"  said  Marguerite,  tossing  her  head;  "you 
would  never  obey  me  without  wanting  to  know  the 
why  and  the  wherefore  of  everything."  She  put  the 
canisters  in  their  place,  and  hurried  off  to  the  singing 
class. 

Nai'ka  watched  her  crossing  the  court,  her  step  so 
brisk,  her  whole  air  bi*eathing  the  content  of  a  life  brim- 
ful of  glad  activities.  "Why  could  not  I  have  a  voca- 
tion," Narka  thought,  "and  join  these  brave  women, 
and  make  my  life  a  service  of  love  for  humanity  ?"  She 
sighed;  but  she  went  home  with  a  lightened  heart,  as 
she  generally  did  from  Marguerite's  companionship. 


214  Narka. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

On  entering  the  house  Narka  saw  a  man  standing  in 
the  dark  entry  with  the  bell-rope  of  her  door  in  his 
hand.  At  the  first  glance  she  did  not  recognize  him. 
It  was  Ivan  Gorff . 

She  uttered  an  exclamation  of  welcoming  surprise, 
and  they  went  in  together. 

"  Where  have  you  come  from  ?"  she  asked,  excitedly, 
when  she  had  closed  the  door. 

"  From  eveiy  where. " 

"  Not. from  St.  Petersburg  ?" 

"  St.  Petersburg  is  somewhere,  is  it  not  ?"  Ivan  said, 
and  his  face,  that  looked  very  haggai'd,  was  momentarily 
brightened  by  one  of  his  old  frank  smiles. 

Narka  saw  there  was  no  bad  news,  so  she  inquired 
after  his  health.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  the 
question  were  not  worth  either  asking  or  answering. 

"  I  saw  Basil  a  fortnight  ago,"  he  said,  taking  compas- 
sion on  her.  "  He  is  well,  and  he  is  growing  in  wisdom, 
and  I  might  almost  say  in  grace,  for  he  has  taken  the 
line  of  trying  to  circumvent  the  Prince  by  playing  a 
waiting  game,  begging  for  time,  and  laying  aside  the 
defiant  tone  he  had  been  fool  enough  to  adopt  a  few 
months  ago.     So  there  is  an  end  to  Kronstadt." 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that !"  said  Narka;  "but  when  is 
there  going  to  be  an  end  of — the  rest,  I  wonder  ?  When 
will  he  be  free  ?     Will  he  ever  be  free  ?" 

Ivan  smiled,  rubbed  his  palms  together,  and  bent 
closer  to  her. 


Narka.  215 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  secret,"  he  said,  dropping'  his  voice 
to  a  confidential  undertone.  "There  is  a  talk  of  the 
Emperor  coming  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  good  brother  of 
Bei'lin,  and  Prince  Zorokoff  is  to  accompany  him,  leav- 
ing Basil  behind,  well  watched,  of  course;  but  we  may 
outbid  him,  or  we  may  outwit  the  police.  I  have  a 
plan — "  He  chuckled,  and  squeezed  his  flattened  hands 
between  his  knees  as  if  he  would  have  crushed  them. 

Narka  held  her  breath ;  she  could  hardly  trust  herself 
to  clutch  at  this  splendid  hope. 

"Yes,"  Ivan  continued,  enjoying  the  effect  he  was 
producing;  "we  must  smuggle  him  out  across  the  Aus- 
trian frontier;  then  he  will  be  safe;  let  them  catch 
him  if  they  can!  It  has  been  a  good  thing,  this  time 
he  has  spent  at  St,  Petersburg-;  it  has  opened  his  eyes, 
and  fitted  him  for  the  work  that  has  to  be  done.  When 
he  was  called  back  and  put  into  a  court  dress  he  was 
in  despair.  He  said:  'I  had  rather  they  sent  me  to 
Siberia  to  work  naked  at  the  gold  picking !  If  one  must 
be  a  slave,  it  is  better  to  be  naked  than  to  be  in  livery ; 
naked,  one  is  nearer  to  being  a  man.'  But  it  was  a 
good  thing  they  put  him  in  livery;  it  made  him  feel 
how  the  livery  galls  and  pinches  and  degrades  the  man ; 
it  has  made  him  believe  all  that  he  heard.  He  now 
knows  what  a  devil's  workshop  a  court  is !  He  has  seen 
what  an  open  door  into  hell  it  is !  He  now  sees  that  the 
only  thing  to  do  is  to  burn  it  down,  and  scatter  the  dust 
of  it  to  the  winds  of  heaven !  He  has  carried  the  war 
into  the  enemy's  country ;  he  has  done  wonders  for  the 
cause;  his  brain  is  a  forge  where  the  iron  is  made 
hot,  and  his  pen  a  hammer  that  beats  it  and  sends  the 
sparks  flying  in  every  direction;  his  hand  has  grown 
strong  and  his  nerves  tough,  and  his  arm  knows  where 
to  reach." 


216  JVarka. 

Ivan  clinched  liis  own  hand  and  straightened  out 
his  massive  arm  threateningly.  He  had  grown  excited 
as  he  went  on,  till  his  voice  was  hoarse,  and  murder- 
ous hate  was  visible  in  every  line  of  his  haggard  face, 
and  lie  was  horrible  to  look  at. 

Narka  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it.  The  sudden 
outbreaking  of  fierce  passion  was  the  more  startling 
from  its  contrast  with  his  habitual  quiet  bonhomie ;  she 
had  never  di^eamed  of  such  fires  smouldering  beneath 
the  surface  of  Ivan's  gentle  nature;  she  admired  the 
strength  that  it  revealed,  but  she  was  conscious  of  a 
recoil  from  him ;  a  kind  of  chill  horror  crept  over  her, 
as  if  she  were  being  forced  into  tacit  complicity  with 
some  criminal  conspiracy,  or  some  deed  of  blood. 

He,  concenti'ated  in  his  own  passion,  had  not  noticed 
its  effect  upon  her;  but  her  long  silence,  after  he  had 
done  speaking,  recalled  him  to  himself.  "Tell  me 
about  you,"  he  said,  turning  to  her,  and  his  counte- 
nance changed  suddenly,  as  if  he  had  thrown  off  a 
mask.  "Why  did  you  come  to  this  out-of-the-way 
place  ?     What  are  you  doing  u]}  here  ?" 

She  answered  his  inquiries  by  giving  him  the  history 
of  all  that  had  happened  since  they  met;  for  he  had 
left  Paris  just  as  she  w^as  pronounced  out  of  danger, 
and  had  heard  of  her  recovery  from  Schenk;  but  be- 
yond that  he  knew  nothing. 

"You  are  with  us  at  heart,"  he  said,  when  she  had 
finished;  "why  not  be  with  us  in  action?  You  said 
you  were  ready  for  any  woi-k  that  your  hands  or  head 
could  do." 

"What  work  can  they  do?"  Narka  asked,  in  vague 
alarm. 

"You  could  translate  for  us.  Instead  of  starving  on 
the  drudgery  of  lessons,  you  might  earn  an  easy  liveli- 


Narka.  Ill 

hood  by  translating  our  circulars  and  pamphlets  from 
Russian  and  German  into  French.  We  can  pay  well 
for  good  service,  and  I  could  keep  you  supplied  with 
work."  He  plunged  his  hand  into  a  capacious  breast 
pocket,  pulled  out  a  roll  of  manuscript,  unfolded  it, 
and  delibei'ately  flattened  it  out  on  his  knee. 

Narka  suddenly  changed  color.  ' '  That  is  Basil's  writ- 
ing!" she  cried,  putting  out  her  hand  to  seize  the  paper. 

"  It  is  his  writing,  and  it  is  his  composition.  I  risked 
my  head  travelling  with  it.  If  it  had  been  found,  it 
would  have  been  as  good  as  a  charge  of  dynamite  under 
my  chair."     He  handed  her  the  paper. 

Narka  devoured  the  well-known  writing  with  hungry 
eyes ;  it  was  almost  like  seeing  Basil  himself,  like  touch- 
ing his  hand. 

Ivan's  face,  as  he  watched  her,  reflected  transparently 
the  battle  of  courage  against  pain  that  was  being  fought 
out  within  him;  his  brow  contracted,  while  a  smile  of 
infantine  hilarity  made  his  eyes  shine.  After  watch- 
ing her  for  a  moment  he  looked  away,  as  if  he  could 
bear  it  no  longer. 

"There  is  to  be  a  meeting  on  the  15th,"  he  said,  fum- 
bling in  his  pockets,  "  and  I  want  to  have  that  ready  to 
distribute  at  it;  so  set  to  work  and  translate  it  at  ouce. 
By-the-way,  why  should  not  you  come  to  this  meeting  ? 
You  would  learn  something  of  what  is  being  done;  you 
would  hear  what  Basil  is  doing,  and  see  the  position  he 
holds  among  us." 

"I  should  like  greatly  to  go,"  Narka  said,  looking 
up  from  the  manuscript  with  a  certain  hesitation.  Her 
will  was,  in  truth,  pulled  by  opposite  forces  of  terror  and 
desire ;  she  longed  to  be  useful  in  the  cause  for  which 
Basil  was  risking  his  life  and  liberty,  but  she  shrank 
before  the  mystery  that  hung  like  a  black  curtain  be- 


218  Narka. 

tween  her  and  the  means  and  agencies  it  employed. 
Who  were  these  peo^jle  she  was  going  to  associate  her- 
self with  ?  Desperadoes,  pi'obably,  who  shrank  from 
nothing.     Still,  if  they  were  Basil's  fellow-workers — 

"  I  will  come  and  fetch  you,"  said  Ivan,  his  quick  eye 
detecting  the  conflict  in  her  mind;  "we  can  go  in  to- 
gether, and  you  can  come  away  whenever  you  feel  in- 
clined.    We  sha'n't  be  more  than  a  few  score." 

And  so  it  was  settled  that  she  would  go. 


JVarka.  219 


CHAPTEB  XXVII. 

The  meeting  was  to  be  held  in  the  Quartier  Latin, 
close  to  the  Russian  Library.  On  the  appointed  even- 
ing Ivan  called  for  Narka,  and  they  drove  there  in  a  cab. 
It  drew  up  before  an  old-fashioned  gateway,  and  Ivan 
led  the  way  up  a  dark,  slippery  stair  to  an  entresol, 
where  they  entered  a  low-ceiled  room  lighted  with  gas. 
The  artificial  glare,  after  the  golden  light  of  the  summer 
evening,  had  a  sinister  effect,  and  lent  an  additional 
air  of  mystery  to  the  place  and  the  opportunity,  which 
impressed  Narka's  excited  imagination. 

There  were  about  a  dozen  persons  already  present, 
some  of  them  women.  Every  eye  was  turned  on  her, 
and  the  women  looked  eager  to  claim  acquaintance;  but 
Ivan  Gorff,  after  exchanging  greetings  with  the  men 
he  knew,  sat  down  beside  her,  placing  his  chair  so  as  to 
barricade  her  against  approach,  and  then  engaged  her 
in  confidential  talk.  The  room  filled  quickly ;  still  they 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some  one  who  had  not  yet  ar- 
rived. Presently  the  door  opened,  and  Dr.  Schenk  ap- 
peared. It  was  not  a  pleasant  surprise  to  Narka;  but 
it  was  not  as  disagreeable  as  it  might  have  been  under 
other  circumstances.  She  did  not  like  Schenk,  though 
she  was  grateful  to  him  for  the  care  he  had  taken  of 
her  in  her  illness;  but  she  was  glad  to  see  him  make 
his  way  round  and  take  a  seat  beside  her.  His  presence 
seemed  a  protection.  Never  had  she  found  herself 
amidst  such  an  assembly  of  vulgar,  vicious,  desperate- 


220  Narka. 

looking  hnman  beings  as  those  whocomposed  this  meet- 
ing. The  first  impression  of  mistrust  was  gradually 
giving  way  to  one  of  horror  and  amazement.  They 
were  all  talking  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  gesticulating 
in  an  excited  manner;  they  seemed  to  be  discussing  ev- 
ery subject  under  the  sun,  if  incoherent  remarks  and 
wild  rant  could  be  called  discussion ;  it  was  difficult  to 
believe  such  an  assembly  could  have  any  serious  pur- 
pose in  view,  or  that  the  members  were  capable  of  wise 
and  concerted  action.  When  it  was  ascei'tained  that  the 
meeting  was  full,  the  door  w^as  locked,  and  some  one 
stamped  on  the  floor  and  then  knocked  on  the  table, 
and  clamored  for  silence  in  'order  that  the  speaking 
might  begin. 

The  first  speaker  was  an  elderly  Russian,  a  tall,  mas- 
sively built  man,  with  a  quantity  of  black  beard  growing 
all  over  his  face,  and  through  this  his  sharp,  rat-like 
eyes  and  exceedingly  red  nose  peered  like  live  things 
through  a  jungle.  He  read  some  reports  from  distant 
members,  scarcely  intelligible  to  Narka,  but  evidently 
of  interest  to  the  company.  The  speaker  alluded  proud- 
ly to  his  having  been  fifteen  years  at  the  hulks — a  fact 
which  evidently  gave  him  a  standing,  as  one  entitled 
by  experience  to  hold  a  heavy  brief  against  the  tyrants. 
The  time  had  come,  he  said,  for  overturning  that  great 
collective  tyrant  called  Society,  and  the  woi-k  demanded 
stout  hearts  and  steady  hands.  The  stamping  and  ap- 
plause which  emphasized  this  remark  left  no  doubt  as 
to  the  assent  of  the  hearts  and  hands  of  the  company. 

"Those,"  continued  the  speaker,  when  quiet  was  re- 
stored, "who  possess  what  by  right  belongs  to  humanity 
call  our  work  crime,  and  hunt  us  down.  But  if  we  are 
guilty,  who  are  the  true  criminals  ?  If  our  deeds  are 
>bloody,  on  whose  head  will  be  the  blood  we  shed  ?    They 


Narka.  221 

goad  us  to  madness,  and  when  we  strike  in  self-defence 
they  call  us  I'obbers  and  assassins;  they  murder  us  in 
the  name  of  justice!" 

The  old  convict  went  ranting  on  in  the  same  style,  his 
voice  growing  louder  as  he  proceeded,  until  it  reached 
a  shout ;  his  gestures,  at  first  heavy  and  emphatic,  gi*ew 
rapid  and  vehement,  till  his  Herculean  arms  leaped  and 
lashed  about  like  the  wings  of  a  mill  blown  this  way 
and  that  by  contrary  winds. 

Ivan  GorTf  joined  in  the  general  applause,  laughing 
and  clapping  hands  as  if  the  whole  thing  had  been  a 
clever  farce.  Schenk  sat  with  his  arms  crossed,  impas- 
sive and  silent. 

The  next  speaker  was  a  very  different  type.  He  also 
was  Russian,  but  young  (about  thirty),  with  a  battered, 
consumptive  countenance,  and  faded  blond  coloring; 
he  was  nobly  born,  had  ruined  himself  by  gambling, 
and  been  driven  from  sheer  want  into  the  business  of 
patriotism;  but  he  attributed  his  misfoi'tune  to  the  evil 
influences  of  the  court — he  had  once  succeeded  in  get- 
ting an  invitation  to  a  state  ball  at  the  Winter  Palace — 
and  felt  that  his  destiny  was  to  denounce  the  foul  cor- 
ruption of  courts  and  the  vices  of  kings,  and  to  serve 
the  noble  cause  of  revolution  by  holding  himself  up  as 
an  awful  example.  He  was  interrupted  by  fits  of  cough- 
ing, and  the  intervals  were  filled  with  frantic  applause 
from  the  meeting. 

"  It  is  some  consolation  to  know,"  he  continued,  "that 
others  are  carrying  on  the  war  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
citadel,  and  fighting  in  the  foul  atmosphere  of  courts 
against  those  infernal  agencies.  One  of  our  country- 
men is  giving  a  glorious  example  of  self-sacrifice  and 
courage  in  propagating  the  gospel  of  Hate  under  the 
roof  of  the  tyrant,  and  mining  the  ground  under  his 


222  Narha. 

feet.  My  friend  and  heroic  brother  in  arms,  Basil 
Zorokoflf-" 

A  faint,  inarticulate  cry  from  a  corner  of  the  room 
was  instantly  drowned  in  a  loud  and  prolonged  burst  of 
applause  from  Ivan  Gorff,  and  this  was  the  signal  for 
a  general  storm  of  enthusiasm,  before  which  the  con- 
sumptive speaker,  already  exhausted,  collapsed. 

Tlie  hubbub  might  have  lasted  indefinitely  if  Schenk 
had  not  risen,  and,  with  one  liand  in  his  breast,  and  the 
other  uplifted  to  command  silence,  made  evident  his 
intention  to  speak.  The  effect  was  immediate.  The 
clamorous  tongues  were  hushed,  and  silence  reigned  in 
the  room.  Sclienk  sj)oke  with  a  quiet  power  that  was 
impressive;  his  accent  was  slightly  German;  his  voice 
clear  and  distinct;  his  speech  simple  and  direct,  like 
that  of  a  man  who  is  too  sure  of  the  strength  of  his 
subject  to  care  to  borrow  any  aid  from  rhetoric  or  ges- 
ticulation. 

"We  are  a  company  of  martyrs, "  he  said, ' '  self -elected 
victims  in  the  great  cause  of  Humanity.  Let  every  man 
keep  this  grand  ideal  well  before  him.  Our  duty  is  to 
annihilate  self  in  the  service  of  the  general  good.  The 
claims  of  the  universal  brotherhood  must  swallow  up 
every  other  claim.  Every  creed  and  code  and  prejudice 
must  succumb  at  their  bidding.  In  the  interests  of  our 
noble  cause  we  must  be  ready,  at  mid-day  or  at  mid- 
night, to  sacrifice  self.  We  must  be  ready  to  do  and 
to  suffer  things  hard  and  vile  and  hideous.  The  men 
and  women  who  join  us  must  hold  their  lives  in  their 
hands,  and  be  ready  to  fling  them  away  at  an  hour's 
notice.  They  must  be  prepared  to  suffer  hunger  and 
thirst,  to  endure  heat  and  cold,  to  give  their  flesh  to 
the  iron  and  the  scourge,  and  their  good  name  to,  the 
dogs;  to  be  accursed  by  their  kindred;  to  be  accoimted 


Narha.  223 

infamous  by  the  good  and  virtuous;  to  be  alone  in  life 
and  in  death.  All  this  they  must  be  ready  to  accept 
who  cast  in  their  lot  with  us.  If  there  be  any  among 
us  whose  spirit  quails  before  the  prospect,  let  him  go  no 
farther,  but  leave  us  before  it  be  too  late.  Let  no  man 
or  woman  who  cannot  face  with  unflinching  nerve  the 
issues  that  await  them  run  the  risk  of  betraying  the 
cause,  and  incurring  the  traitors  death." 

Scheuk  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  an  answer.  It  came 
in  a  loud  shout  of  assent  from  every  side.  With  a  quiet 
gesture  he  imposed  silence,  and  went  on : 

"  If  we  are  all  sure  of  ourselves,  we  need  fear  nothing. 
No  man  can  hurt  us.  They  can  do  no  more  than  kill  us, 
and  we  are  willing  to  be  killed.  However  black  in  the 
eyes  of  men,  we  are  white  and  clean  before  Heaven  and 
our  own  conscience.  And  we  stand  all  equal  as  ser- 
vants in  the  grand  cause.  The  lowest  among  us  who 
runs  the  same  risks,  deserves  the  same  honor  as  the 
Prince  who  is  working  in  the  high  places.  The  only 
standard  we  recognize  is  patriotism;  the  value  of  each 
man  is  measured  by  the  service  he  renders  to  the  gen- 
eral cause. " 

Schenk  then  proceeded  to  read  letters  and  reports; 
but  Narka  did  not  hear  them.  She  was  reeling  from 
the  shock  that  his  speech  had  dealt  her;  she  felt  like  a 
person  who  had  been  led  blindfold  into  a  quagmire, 
and  who,  when  the  bandage  was  removed,  saw  no  way 
out  of  it.  What  could  Ivan's  motive  have  been  in  lead- 
ing her  into  such  a  place  ?  He  had,  indeed,  prepared 
her  vaguely  by  mysterious  hints ;  but  she  never  dreamed 
of  anything  so  reckless  of  morality  as  this  policy  ex- 
pounded by  Schenk.  And  it  looked  as  if  Schenk  had 
seized  with  avidity  the  opportunity  of  lighting  up  the 
depths  of  the  abyss  on  the  brink  of  which  she  stood,  and 


224  Narha. 

showing  lier  what  kind  of  solidarity  she  incurred  and 
what  risks  she  ran  in  throwing  in  her  lot  with  him  and 
his  associates.  And  these  men  were  Basil's  friends !  It 
was  impossible !  Yet  there  was  his  pamphlet.  True,  it 
did  not  contain  anything  like  Schenk's  cold-blooded  gos- 
pel of  crime;  it  was  only  an  eloquent  appeal  to  his  coun- 
trymen to  rise  and  assert  their  dignity  as  men,  and  their 
freedom  as  citizens ;  it  dealt  witli  abstract  ideas  and  prin- 
ciples. 

Narka  in  her  bewilderment  could  not,  perhaps  w^ould 
not,  see  that  Schenk's  concrete  code  was  only  the  logical 
outcome  of  Basil's  abstract  principles.  Suddenly  the 
thought  of  LarchofP  flashed  through  her  mind.  She 
felt  sick  with  doubt  and  terror. 

Schenk  sat  down,  and  then  Olga  Borzidoff  rose  to 
speak.  This  woman  was  a  friend  of  Dr.  Schenk's,  and 
had  kept  her  eyes  on  Narka  from  the  first  with  a  glance 
which,  if  Narka  had  noticed  it,  would  have  frightened 
her  more  than  anything  she  had  seen  or  heard  at  the 
meeting.  Olga  BorzidofP,  after  draining  the  cup  of  plea- 
sure to  the  dregs,  had  taken  to  the  game  of  patriotism 
in  search  of  a  new  sensation;  but  she  played  badly, 
got  caught,  and  only  escaped  with  her  life,  owing  to 
a  timely  warning  from  one  of  the  Emperor's  aides-de- 
camp. Her  fortune  was  confiscated,  but  the  sale  of  her 
jewels  gave  her  an  income  which  enabled  her  to  play 
the  grande  dame  amongst  the  bankrupt  pariahs  into 
whose  society  slie  had  fallen.  She  had  once  been  hand- 
some, but  now  at  forty  she  was  a  bold,  hard-featured, 
painted  coquette. 

She  opened  her  speech  by  an  attack  on  men,  denoun- 
cing the  despotism  they  exercised  over  women,  and 
declaring  that  the  emancipation  of  her  sex  must  be  a 
prelude  to  the  emancipation  of  her  country  and  man- 


JVarka.  225 

kind,  and  that  her  eflPorts  and  those  of  her  sisters  should 
tend  in  that  direction.     A  violent,  ranting  rigmarole. 

After  this  shrieking  sister,  a  pale-faced,  blue-eyed  Ger- 
man stood  up.  She  acknowledged  that  she  was  a 
woman,  timid  and  cowardly,  and  therefore  had  no  right 
to  put  herself  forward ;  still,  trusting  to  the  chivalrous 
indulgence  of  the  stronger  sex,  she  dared  to  lift  up  her 
voice  and  adjure  them  to  make  haste  in  their  grand 
mission  of  social  reform ;  their  action  had  hitherto  been 
circumscribed  by  scruples  of  compassion  which  were  in 
reality  the  promptings  of  cowardice.  They  shrank  from 
sacrificing  harmless  men  and  women,  forgetting  that 
the  death  of  one  tyrant  was  such  a  gain  to  humanity 
as  to  be  cheaply  bought  b5^  the  sacrifice  of  a  thousand 
lives;  it  would  benefit  millions  yet  unborn.  Let  this 
thought  nerve  their  arm  for  the  slaughter  that  must  be 
accomplished  if  the  world  was  to  be  cleansed  of  the  race 
of  tyrants  and  aristocrats,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

The  blue-eyed  woman's  voice  had  a  lachrymose  trem- 
ble in  it  that  was  full  of  pathos.  It  reminded  Narka 
of  the  serpent  beseeching  Eve  to  eat  to  the  death  of  the 
human  race. 

Several  other  speakers  followed ;  chiefly  French,  all 
young  men,  evidently  of  the  declasse  type.  One  after 
another  they  stood  up  and  raved  and  ranted ;  they  were 
full  of  their  own  imj)ortance,  ready  for  any  enterprise, 
absolutely  reckless  of  consequences ;  light-headed  fools, 
seemingly  more  hungry  and  discontented  than  wicked — 
a  wonderful  company  to  undertake  the  redemption  of 
their  respective  nations. 

Ivan  GorfP  had  not  spoken,  except  that  short  parley 
improvised  to  screen  Narka  when  she  had  nearly  betray- 
ed herself.  He  rose  now,  and  said  he  had  something  to 
communicate  before  they  separated.  There  was  a  gen- 
15 


226  Narha. 

eral  assent,  and  he  proceeded  to  read  out,  in  his  deep,  me- 
tallic voice,  Basil's  pamphlet  translated.  The  effect  was 
electric.  The  language  had  seemed  inspiring  to  Narka 
when  she -read  it  alone;  hut,  declaimed  by  Ivan  to  this 
excited  and  responsive  audience,  its  eloquence  was  like 
fire  and  dancing  flames.  The  reading  was  all  along 
punctuated  by  "bravos"  and  suppressed  cheers;  the 
meeting  could  hardly  restrain  its  enthusiasm  within 
bounds,  and  the  moment  Ivan  had  done,  the  applause 
burst  out  like  a  torrent  let  loose.  The  pamphlets  were 
seized  upon  as  if  they  had  been  loaves  of  bread  thrown 
to  starving  men;  the  company  embraced  one  another; 
they  kissed  the  pamphlet;  they  made  every  demon- 
stration of  wild  delight.  * 

Under  cover  of  the  general  hubbub  Ivan  said  to 
Narka,  "Let  us  slip  away." 

Schenk,  who  was  before  her,  moved  on  at  once,  and 
Olga  Borzidoff,  whose  eyes  had  never  left  the  group, 
pushed  quickly  toward  the  door  and  met  them. 

"Present  us  to  one  another,"  she  said  to  Schenk,  put- 
ting her  hand  on  his  arm ;  but  Schenk  moved  on  as  if  he 
had  not  heard.  "  Let  us  introduce  ourselves,"  said  Olga. 
"  I  am  Olga  Borzidoff.     What  is  our  new  sister's  name?" 

"  Narka  Larik,"  replied  the  new  sister,  coldly. 

Ivan  pushed  her  gently  on,  remarking  that  it  was 
later  than  he  thought.  It  was  pitch-dark  on  the  stairs. 
Schenk  struck  a  match,  and  nursed  the  little  flame,  that 
Narka  might  see  where  to  step;  but  the  light,  after  a 
moment,  went  out. 

"Take  my  arm,"  said  Schenk.  "I  know  the  way.  I 
will  guide  you." 

They  were  groping  their  way,  Ivan  following,  when  a 
hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  woman's  voice  said, 
"  I  want  a  word  with  you."     He  stood  at  her  bidding. 


Narka.  227 

Nai'ka  got  safe  down,  thanks  to  Schenk's  steady  guid- 
ance. When  they  emerged  into  the  court  below,  the 
moon  was  high  and  the  dark  blue  heaven  was  full  of 
stars. 

"Here  we  are,  a  riveder  le  stelleP''  he  said,  drawing 
a  deep  breath. 

In  spite  of  the  horror  with  which  his  speech  had  so 
lately  inspired  her,  Narka  for  a  moment  felt  in  sym- 
pathy with  him ;  the  beautiful  quotation  seemed  to  strike 
a  sursum  corda  that  lifted  her  spirit  out  of  the  dense 
atmosphere  in  which  she  had  been  morally  and  physic- 
ally stifling. 

They  stood  and  looked  back,  expecting  Ivan  to  fol- 
low ;  but  he  did  not  appear,  and  the  others  were  hurry- 
ing down. 

"We  had  better  not  wait  here,"  said  Schenk. 
"Come  on,  and  I  will  put  you  into  a  cab." 

They  went  out,  and  he  hailed  one.  As  he  was  closing 
the  door  upon  Narka,  he  said,  "It  is  very  late  for  you 
to  go  such  a  long  drive  alone;  you  had  better  let  me 
see  you  home."  And  without  waiting  for  her  answer, 
he  jumped  in  beside  her. 

Neither  of  them  broke  silence  until  they  alighted 
at  Narka's  door.  Then  Schenk  wished  her  good-night, 
and  walked  back  alone  in  the  starlight. 


228  Narha. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  meeting  in  the  Quartier  Latin  had  one  good  ef- 
fect on  Narka:  it  forced  her  thoughts  into  a  new  chan- 
nel, and  made  it  easier  for  her  to  obey  the  doctor's  in- 
junction of  thinking  as  little  as  possible  about  her  lost 
voice.  That  extraordinary  scene,  and  the  sudden  and 
dangerous  current  it  had  introduced  into  her  life,  absorb- 
ed her  so  completely  that  all  other  thoughts  wei-e  for  the 
moment  crowded  out  of  sight.  But  she  felt  more  alone 
since  her  solitude  had  become  peopled  by  this  multitude 
of  unbidden  presences.  A  new  sense  of  loneliness, 
of  isolation,  came  to  her  with  the  louging  to  discount 
these  too  vivid  emotions,  to  silence  these  haunting  rev- 
elations and  shadowy  presentments  by  sharing  them 
with  some  one  whom  she  could  trust,  and  who  would 
understand,  whose  sympathy  or  v?hose  contradiction, 
whose  indignant  denunciation  even,  might  help  her  to 
adjust  the  balance  of  things,  and  bring  them  to  their  true 
proportion.  It  is  so  much  harder  to  battle  through 
these  spectral  crowds  alone  I 

Narka  tried  to  escape  from  her  beleaguered  solitude 
by  occupying  herself,  and  being  as  much  as  possible 
out-of-doors.  One  of  the  few  helpful  recreations  within 
her  reach  was  a  visit  to  the  Louvre.  She  took  the 
onmibus  one  morning  and  drove  there.  The  serene  at- 
mosphere of  the  galleries  soothed  her,  the  brooding  pre- 
sence of  the  dead  masters,  who  were  still  so  living,  ex- 
orcised the  evil  spirits  and  scared  them  away.  Narka 
had  never  held  a  brush,  but  her  delight  in  the  art  was 


JVarka.  229 

genuine.  She  loved  some  of  the  pictures  as  if  they  were 
living  persons  who  felt  her  enthusiasm,  and  might  be 
touched  by  it.  The  Murillos  were  her  chief  delight; 
sometimes  it  almost  seemed  to  her  that  she  might 
awake  or  trouble  the  sleep  of  the  dead  painter  in  being 
so  deeply  moved  by  his  inspired  renderings.  She  lin- 
gered long  before  them  to-day,  and  though  tired  physic- 
ally from  standing  about  so  many  hours,  she  felt  re- 
freshed and  rested  in  spirit  when  she  left  the  place. 

She  was  turning  into  the  Tuileries  gardens  when  a 
gentleman,  liurrying  out,  met  her.  It  was  Dr.  Schenk. 
Narka  had  not  seen  either  him  or  Ivan  Gorff  since  the 
meeting. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you!"  he  said,  cordially. 
"Shall  we  sit  down  and  chat  for  a  moment  ?" 

There  was  a  bench  close  by,  under  the  broad  shade  of 
a  chestnut-tree.  Narka  was  not  sorry  to  sit  down  and 
rest  a  little. 

"I  need  not  ask  what  you  thought  of  the  company 
the  other  evening,"  Schenk  said,  entering  at  once  on 
the  subject. 

Narka's  level  brows  went  up  expressively.  "It  was 
not  so  much  the  company,  even,  as  the  doctrines,  that 
took  me  by  surprise,"  she  answered. 

"  You  were  not  prepared  to  find  them  so  advanced  ? 
Ivan  ought  to  have  been  more  outspoken  and  explicit 
with  you.  You  were  hardly  strong  enough  to  bear  the 
shock  of  being  brought  in  contact  with  the  reality  so 
suddenly.  I  took  for  granted  that  you  had  come  there 
with  your  eyes  open,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  you, 
I  confess.  However,  as  you  have  been  taken  behind  the 
curtain,  you  must  just  accept  the  fact  that  there  is  an 
ugly  side  to  patriotism  when  it  has  to  work  in  secret. 
But  though  the  patriotism  that  goes  forth  to  the  roll  of 


230  Narha. 

drums  and  the  braj^ing  of  trumpets  looks  a  more  respect- 
able thing-,  it  is  far  less  worthy  in  reality  than  ours,  that 
gets  no  reward  but  scorn  and  stripes ;  we  at  least  despise 
the  conventional  fallacy  that  goes  by  the  name  of 
honor ;  we  trample  that  cant  and  the  rest  of  the  world's 
jugglery  and  caricaturing  under  our  feet,  and  we  bring 
on  ourselves  the  odium  of  the  result  for  a  purely  im- 
personal gain.  I  perceive  you  have  a  great  deal  to  learn 
as  to  our  principle  of  action,"  he  added,  reading,  with 
his  habitual  intuition,  on  Narka's  features  the  conflict 
between  utter  revulsion  and  reluctant  admiration  that 
he  was  exciting  in  her;  "  you  have  taken  a  perilous  step 
in  joining  us,  but  you  will  trust  me  and  let  me  be  your 
friend — " 

"I  hope  our  new  sister  will  trust  us  all  as  friends," 
said  a  woman's  voice  behind  them. 

Before  turning  round  to  see  who  it  was,  Narka  had 
recognized  Olga  Borzidoff.     She  started  and  colored. 

Schenk  stood  up.  "What  brings  you  here  ?"  he  said, 
in  a  low  tone  that  had  something  dangerously  fierce 
in  it. 

"Precisely  what  brings  you  here,"  she  replied,  in  a 
high,  insolent  key:  "the  desire  to  converse  with  Made- 
moiselle Larik." 

"I  had  business  to  discuss  with  mademoiselle." 

"So  have  I.  Perhaps  you  won't  mind  our  discussing 
it  together  ?" 

"  Good-morning,  monsieur,"  said  Narka,  and  quiver- 
ing with  anger  and  wounded  pride,  she  walked  away. 

That  bold,  bad  woman's  stare  was  like  the  touch  of  an 
unclean  thing.  She  could  not  forgive  Ivan  Gorff  for 
subjecting  her  to  the  humiliation  of  such  a  contact. 
Why  had  he  entrapped  her  so  treacherously  into  this 
secret  congregation  of  disreiDutable  men  and  women  ? 


Narka.  231 

What  sort  of  good  were  such  people  capable  of  effecting 
for  their  country  ?  And  Basil  was  working  in  common 
with  them ! 

All  the  way  to  La  Villette,  as  the  omnibus  rolled 
along,  Narka  pi'otested  inwardly  against  this  unworthy 
comradeship,  and  upbraided  Ivan  Goi'flP.  But  on  reach- 
ing home  she  found  that  Ivan  had  called  and  left  a 
sealed  parcel  for  her.  She  opened  it  and  saw  Basil's 
handwriting.  In  an  instant  all  her  anger  vanished, 
and  she  could  feel  nothing  but  gratitude  toward  the 
man  who  had  brought  this  joy  into  her  life. 

She  sat  down  and  devoured  the  manuscript.  It  was 
just  what  she  wanted  to  restore  her  bruised  self-respect 
and  reconcile  her  to  the  irreconcilable.  The  article 
was  a  powerful  and  impassioned  piece  of  writing;  but  it 
remained,  like  the  preceding  one,  in  the  abstract,  dealing 
with  principles,  and  enlarging  on  the  degrading  effect  of 
tyranny  upon  the  moral  nature  of  a  people.  Here  was 
the  wisdom,  the  sagacity,  the  courage,  the  dominant 
mind  of  the  true  patriot.  This  was  the  gold  in  the 
dross.  Narka  set  to  work  at  once  on  the  translation, 
happy  in  the  consciousness  that  she  was  putting  her 
hand  to  the  plough  with  Basil,  and  driving  the  share 
through  the  smoking  soil,  while  he  cast  the  seed  into 
the  furrow. 


232  Narha, 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Narka  had  not  been  to  see  Marguerite  since  the  meet- 
ing. If  any  one  had  asked  her  why,  she  would  have 
said  it  was  because  she  had  been  busy,  or  absent  at  Mar- 
guerite's convenient  hours  for  seeing  her.  But  the  true 
though  unacknowledged  reason  was  that  she  shrank 
from  the  contact.  Marguerite's  pure  and  uncompro- 
mising oi'thodoxies  somehow  always  rebuked  her  like 
a  living  conscience;  and  now  that  her  mind  had  become 
tainted  with  guilty  knowledge,  and  was  tacitly,  half- 
consciously,  conniving  at  it,  she  did  not  dare  intrude 
herself  on  a  life  that  was  filled  from  morning  till  night 
with  placid  sanctities,  sweet  and  common  as  daisies  in 
the  grass,  and  wholesome  as  a  field  of  new-mown  hay. 
She  was  afraid  to  meet  those  true,  innocent  eyes  that 
were  bubbling  up  with  happiness  and  trust  in  God  and 
man,  like  clear  fountains  in  the  sunlight.  She  avoided 
Marguerite  since  she  had  set  lier  foot  upon  the  down- 
ward path.  For  Narka  knew  that  it  was  a  downwai'd 
path.  Those  articles  of  Basil's  had  fanned  the  flame 
of  her  love  and  fired  her  imagination,  but  they  had  not 
blinded  her  reason.  She  saw  clearly  enough  the  logical 
link  between  those  blood-stirring  appeals  and  the  doc- 
trines enunciated  at  the  meeting. 

Marguerite,  meantime,  was  too  busy  to  go  to  people 
who  were  able  to  come  to  her.  She  heard  fi'om  Ma- 
dame Blaquette  that  Narka  was  well  and  out  every  day, 
and  this  was  enough.  She  had,  moreover,  heavier  cares 
than  usual  pressing  on  her  for  the  moment.  La  Villette 
was  "nervous";  in  other  words,  it  was  making  ready 


Karka.  233 

for  a  revolution.  The  elders  of  the  commuuity,  enlight- 
ened by  past  experiences,  recognized  signs  and  sjmibols 
which  Marguerite's  quick  intuition  could  not  have  failed, 
even  without  this  warning,  to  notice.  The  district  echo- 
ed with  sounds  and  silences  that  were  not  to  be  mis- 
taken. The  wine-shops  were  crowded  late  and  early, 
and  through  their  closed  doors  there  came  reverbera- 
tions of  that  alcoholic  oratory  which  to  the  Parisian 
ouvrier  is  like  a  lighted  match  put  to  powder.  A  more 
significant  sign  to  Marguerite  was  that  the  orators  avoid- 
ed her.  Slie  noticed  that  men  who  habitually  met  her 
with  a  bright  kindly  woi'd  now  turned  round  the  cor- 
ner when  they  saw  her  in  the  distance,  or,  if  they  came 
up  with  her  unexpectedly,  hurried  on  with  a  curt  salu- 
tation. Clearly  they  were  fighting  shy  of  her,  and  she 
read  the  reason  in  their  sullen  averted  faces  and  in 
the  troubled  eyes  of  the  women. 

Madame  Blaquette,  whom  Narka  frequently  met  com- 
ing in  and  out,  seemed  much  alarmed,  and  hinted  at 
some  great  impending  catastrophe;  but  Madame  Bla- 
quette was  so  well  known  as  a  croaker  and  an  alarmist 
that  no  one  paid  any  heed  to  what  she  said.  One 
afternoon  she  came  against  Narka  in  the  entry,  and 
clutched  her  arm  in  great  excitement:  "  Oh,  mademoi- 
selle, we  have  had  the  narrowest  escape!  Just  think! 
The  house  opposite  is  watched  by  the  police,  and  such 
odd-looking  people  have  been  hanging  about!  Three 
days  ago  a  box  was  brought  to  a  man  who  lodged  there 
a  month  back.  They  wouldn't  take  it  in,  so  tlie  porter 
carried  it  over  here,  and  said  if  I  kept  it  for  a  couple 
of  days  it  would  be  called  for.  I,  never  suspecting  any- 
thing, took  it  into  my  room,  and  this  morning  it  sud- 
denly occuri'ed  to  me  that  it  might  be  an  infernal  ma- 
chine!" 


234  Karha. 

"  Oh !"  cried  Narka,  with  a  gesture  of  dismay. 

"  I  went  off  at  once  to  the  commissaire  de  police,  and 
he  went  to  the  Prefecture,  and  thi'ee  ixien  came  just  now 
and  carried  it  into  the  back  yard,  and  took  all  sorts  of 
precautions  in  opening,  for  if  it  had  exploded,  you  know, 
the  whole  street  would  have  blown  up !" 

"But  it  didn't  explode  ?" 

' '  Oh  no ;  it  was  a  sewing-machine.  But  only  think 
if  it  had  been  the  other!" 

"But  it  wasn't  the  other,"  said  Narka,  half  amused, 
and  half  vexed  at  having  been  so  taken  in. 

"All  the  same,  we  have  been  most  mercifully  pre- 
served," insisted  Madame  Blaquette,  "for  it  migJit  have 
been  the  other,  and  I  might  have  been  buried  at  this  mo- 
ment under  the  ruins  of  my  own  roof.  We  ought  to 
be  on  our  knees  thanking  God." 

Narka,  with  an  impatient  shrug,  passed  on,  laughing, 
into  her  room.  As  she  took  off  her  things  she  looked 
out  at  the  house  opposite.  It  was  a  dingy,  disrepu- 
table looking  house,  with  a  battered  face,  and  windows 
so  crusted  with  dirt  you  could  not  have  seen  through 
them — a  house  that  looked  as  if  it  might  want  watching; 
but  probably  there  was  as  much  foundation  for  its  bad 
character  as  for  the  providential  escape  from  the  sewing- 
machine. 

She  was  turning  from  the  window, when  she  observed 
an  unusual  movement  outside;  a  number  of  gamins 
were  rushing  to  stare  at  something;  presently  an  open 
carriage  with  liveried  servants  drew  up  before  her  door. 
Flushed  and  excited,  she  went  to  receive  Sibyl. 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  what  a  funny  place  you  have  come 
to !"  exclaimed  Sibyl,  looking  I'ound  her  like  a  person  be- 
wildered. 

"Yes,"  said  Narka,  with  a  constrained  laugh,  "it  is 


KarJca.  235 

a  funny  place  for  you  to  come  to  pay  a  visit.  I  wondei' 
what  your  servants  think  of  it  ?" 

* '  My  servants  ?  I  sliould  as  soon  think  of  wondering 
what  my  horses  thought  of  it!" 

Narka  laughed  agfiin.  "Yes,"  she  said  to  hei'self, 
"  horses  and  servants  are  the  same  sort  of  cattle  to  you, 
only  with  different  prices." 

They  sat  down,  Sibyl  glancing  round  her  with  a  kind 
of  half- alarmed  curiosity. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  am  very  angry  with  you,"  she  said. 
"What  business  had  you  to  steal  a  march  on  me  and 
come  off  to  this  outlandish  place  the  moment  my  back 
was  turned  ?" 

"I  was  obliged  to  come  away;  I  could  not  remain 
where  I  was." 

"You  might  have  gone  down  to  Beaucrillon  and 
waited  there.  Have  you  made  a  vow  never  to  come  and 
stay  with  me  ?" 

Narka  made  no  answer  for  a  moment.  Then  looking 
at  Sibyl  with  an  expression  lialf  grave,  half  comical, 
"Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  "how  we  laughed  over 
that  remark  of  Madame  de  Stael's,  that  a  woman  who 
was  unhappy  with  her  husband  ought  never  to  leave 
him  for  a  day,  becavise  it  made  it  so  much  worse  for  her 
when  she  had  to  come  back  to  him  ?" 

"Where  is  the  bad  husband  here  ?"  said  Sibyl,  glan- 
cing round  as  if  she  half  expected  to  see  him  hiding 
somewhere.  "  Have  you  gone  and  married  unbeknown 
to  me  ?" 

"The  husband  is  only  a  figure,"  replied  Narka. 
"The  fact  is,  the  contrast  between  my  life  and  yours 
is  too  great,  the  charm  and  splendor  of  your  home 
make  the  hurry-scurry  and  sordid  vulgarities  of  my 
own  look  worse  to  me.      I  have  made  up  my  mind 


236  Narha. 

not  to  risk  it,  not  to  try  to  snatch  at  what  has  been  so 
completely  taken  from  me.  It  is  much  better  for  me 
to  stay  in  my  own  corner  and  toil  and  moil,  and  never 
try  to  escape,  and  put  on  my  silk  gown  and  sit  idle  like 
a  lady.  I  feel  such  a  sham  when  I  go  to  you  and  play 
the  lady!" 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking!  You  are  a  sham 
when  you  try  not  to  play  the  lady,  as  you  call  it.  Your 
ladyhood  is  as  inalienable  as  the  shape  of  your  eyes  or 
the  color  of  your  hair.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean 
by  sordid  vulgarity;  a  life  of  intellectual  labor  is  not 
sordid  or  vulgar.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me  a  grand 
thing  to  owe  everything  to  one's  self.  I  should  have 
been  very  proud  if  I  could  have  earned  my  own  living." 

The  sentiment  was  sublimely  absurd  in  Sibyl's  mouth, 
and  yet  it  did  Narka  good  to  hear  her  speak  so.  It 
raised  her  in  her  own  eyes  to  hear  Sibyl  say  that  work- 
ing for  bread  was  a  grand  thing.  There  was  still  a  vir- 
tue in  Sibyl's  touch  that  was  like  nothing  else. 

They  talked  about  other  things,  and  then  Sibyl  said: 
"  And  Marguerite  ?    You  see  her  often  ?     How  is  she  ?" 

"I  hope  she  is  well,  for  she  works  like  a  little  pony. 
She  is  goodness  itself  to  me." 

"I  am  so  glad,  darling!    But  Marguerite  is  an  angel." 

"I  kiiew  that  already;  but  I  have  discovered  here 
that  she  is  a  genius.  She  would  have  made  a  first-rate 
queen.  She  has  a  genius  for  governing.  If  you  could 
see  how  she  manages  the  roughs  and  the  drunkards! 
The  people  positively  worship  her  ;  there  are  all  sorts 
of  stories  abroad  about  the  miracles  Soeur  Marguerite 
Vforks;  how  she  multiplies  the  soup  and  the  rations  be- 
yond all  natural  explanation.  Where  she  gets  the 
money  for  all  she  gives  away  in  food  and  clothing  is 
certainly  a  kind  of  miracle." 


JSFarka.  237 

"Oh,  she  is  not  a  bad  beggai*!"  said  Sibyl,  laughing; 
"her  genius  extends  in  that  direction  too.  I  must  go 
in  and  see  lier  on  my  way  home."  Then,  taking  Narka's 
hand  in  her  own,  "But  tell  me  about  your  voice,  dear- 
est ?"  she  said,  anxiously;  "I  have  been  haunted  by 
the  thought  ever  since  I  heard  from  Marguerite  that 
you  had  lost  it.  How  I  did  long  to  fly  to  you  that 
moment  and  hold  your  hand  while  you  were  passing 
through  that  terrible  anguish  of  the  first  discovery! 
But  it  is  sure  to  come  back.  Have  you  tried  it  since 
then  ?" 

Before  Narka  could  answer,  there  was  a  quick  tap  at 
the  window,  which  was  only  a  few  feet  from  the  ground 
outside,  and  something  like  a  great  white  wing  fluttered 
past. 

"It  is  Marguerite,"  said  Narka;  and,  doubly  glad  of 
the  interruption,  she  went  to  let  her  in. 

The  cornette  seemed  to  bring  in  the  sunshine  with  it. 

"I  guessed  who  was  responsible  for  the  scandal  of  a 
powdered  flunky  in  this  respectable  neighborhood,"  said 
Marguerite.  "Who  ever  thought  of  your  ladyship's 
being  in  town  at  this  time  of  year?  Business  ?  Well, 
Narka  is  not  so  badly  ofP,  you  see?"  and  she  glanced 
admiringly  round  the  room,  to  which,  in  spite  of  its  tiled 
floor  and  whitewashed  walls,  the  grand  piano  under 
its  rich  embroidered  cover,  and  flowers  and  books  about, 
gave  a  gracious,  home-like  air. 

"  If  the  outside  were  only  as  good  as  the  inside.  But 
what  an  awful  nelghborliood  it  is!"  said  Sibyl,  lifting 
up  her  hands.  "As  I  drove  up  here  the  wickedness 
of  the  people's  faces,  the  way  they  scowled  at  me,  made 
me  shudder." 

"You  need  not  have  shuddered,"  said  Marguerite, 
with  a  little  toss  of  her  head.     "  The  worst  of  our  people 


238  Narha. 

up  here  is  they  are  not  hypocrites;  tliey  wear  their 
wickedness  outside  instead  of  in ;  but  half  the  time  it  is 
pain  tliat  makes  them  scowl,  poor  creatures!  When 
hunger  is  griping  a  man's  inside,  it  is  enough  to  make 
him  scowl.      I'm  sure  it  would  me." 

"You  always  stand  up  for  your  people  here,"  said 
Sibyl,  "but  you  know  very  well,  dear,  they  are  the 
scum  of  the  city." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  sort;  they  may  be  the  dregs, 
but  they  certainly  are  not  the  scum — the  scum  is  at  the 
top.     You  must  look  to  our  monde  for  that." 

"  We  don't  get  drunk,  at  any  rate." 

"Humph !"  Marguerite  remembered  certain  traits  de 
mceurs  she  had  heai'd  at  Yrakow,  and  admired  Sibyl's 
impudence.  "Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  them  if 
they  did,"  she  said,  defiantly.  "I  know  a  few  respect- 
able Pharisees  whom  I  should  love  to  make  so  drunk 
that  they  would  roll  under  the  table.  That  might  take 
the  pride  out  of  them,  and  send  them  up  to  the  Temple 
to  strike  their  bi'easts  and  get  justified." 

Narka  burst  out  laughing.  "The  Pharisees  get  no 
quarter  from  Marguerite,"  she  said. 

Sibyl  looked  half  inclined  to  be  angry.  "Well,  if  she 
is  fond  of  publicans,  I  should  think  she  is  satisfied  up 
here.  The  shouts  and  yells  from  the  wine-shops  as  I 
came  along  were  perfectly  awful.  It  reminded  me  of 
the  shrieks  of  the  damned." 

"That  can't  be  a  pleasant  noise,"  said  Marguerite; 
' '  but  I  would  rather  hear  that  than  the  laughter  of  the 
damned." 

"  I  did  not  know  they  ever  laughed  in  hell." 

"I  fancy  they  do  now  and  then;  I  fancy  that  when 
the  Pharisees  &re  stripped  of  their  shams  and  shown  up 
naked  at  the  judgment-seat,  their  countenances  on  find- 


Narha.  239 

ing  themselves  iu  that  predicament  must  be  a  sight  to 
make  even  the  poor  devils  laugh." 

"The  poor  devils  ?  Well,  if  you  are  going  to  stand 
up  for  the  devils !" 

"It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  us  if  we  had  their 
zeal  and  their  perseverance,"  retorted  Marguerite. 

"You  need  not  envy  them  their  spirit  of  contradic- 
tion, at  any  rate,"  said  Sibyl,  good-humoredly,  feeliug 
that  she  had  made  a  hit. 

"Give  it  up,  Sibyl — give  it  up,"  said  Narka,  triumph- 
ing with  Marguerite,  who  had  had  the  best  of  it  up  to 
this. 

But  Marguerite  had  not  thought  of  triumphing;  she 
only  thought  of  defending  her  poor  people.  ' '  What 
news  have  you  fi'om  St.  Petersburg  ?"  she  asked,  turning 
the  conversation. 

Sibyl  slowly  lifted  her  shoulders,  and  with  a  sigh 
slowly  let  them  down.  "I'm  afraid  my  father  is  grow- 
ing weak.  Basil  has  persuaded  him  to  wait  and  give 
him  time  to  live  down  his  foolish  passion.  I  fear  Basil 
has  entangled  himself  deeper,  and  in  more  waj's  than 
we  suspected.  And  he  has  broken  through  all  restraint 
with  my  father,  and  rails  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
Emperor  and  the  miserable  condition  of  the  people,  and 
goes  on  like  a  lunatic.  The  wonder  is  that  my  father 
bears  it.  But  the  wonder  of  all  is  that  any  one  so 
clever  as  Basil  can  be  such  a  fool !  As  if  our  moujiks 
wanted  to  be  free !  As  if  they  would  know  what  to  do 
with  themselves  if  they  were  sent  adrift  to-morrow 
like  English  or  French  peasants !  To  give  them  perfect 
freedom  would  be  to  make  them  miserable." 

"My  dear  Sibyl,"  Narka  protested,  with  a  ringing 
laugh,  "would  a  lark  be  miserable  if  you  opened  its 
cage  and  set  it  f  I'ee  ?" 


240  Narka. 

"  Yes,  it  would,  if  it  had  been  born  in  a  cage.  That 
is  what  you  and  Basil  don't  consider."  (How  that  "you 
and  Basil"  made  Narka's  heart  leap !)  "  Human  beings, 
like  animals,  are  only  happy  in  the  conditions  they  are 
born  to.  A  savage  is  happy  in  savage  conditions;  our 
civilized  ways  would  be  misery  to  him.  Fancy  a  red 
Indian,  roaming  through  his  forests  in  a  bead  necklace, 
suddenly  trapped,  and  his  free  limbs  packed  into  panta- 
loons and  top-boots!" 

"We  Russians  are  not  quite  red  Indians,"  said  Narka. 
"We  have  been  slowly  educated  up  to  top-boots  these 
fifty  years  past." 

"  C/nfortunately !"  said  Sibyl,  with  intense  emphasis. 
"  Our  people  were  much  happier  before  they  ever  heard 
of  top-boots.  They  were  content  with  their  lot,  just  as 
the  camel  that  toils  all  his  life  through  the  desert  is 
content ;  but  if  you  bring  a  camel  up  as  a  pet  to  eat  and 
drink  and  lie  in  the  shade,  and  then  load  him  and  turn 
him  out  into  the  desert  to  tramp  without  water  under  a 
vertical  sun,  do  you  think  he  would  be  content  ?" 

"He  would  be  a  great  fool  if  he  were.  But  what 
does  that  prove  ? — that  the  majority  of  human  beings 
ought  to  be  treated  like  camels  ?" 

"They  ought  not  to  be  unfitted  for  their  allotted 
work." 

"  Allotted?  Who  allotted  it?  When  God  created  the 
world  did  He  allot  the  millions  as  camels  to  the  tens? 
Did  He  authorize  you  to  treat  the  people  as  cattle?" 

"I  don't  think  we  ever  treated  our  people  as  cattle," 
said  Sibyl,  surprised  and  resentful. 

"You  did  not;  but  others  around  you  did,  and  you 
might  if  you  had  chosen.  I  don't  believe  God  ever 
meant  to  place  the  majority  of  His  children  in  jeopardy 
to  tljat  choice." 


Narha.  241 

There  was  a  passionate  vibration  in  Narka's  voice  that 
reminded  Sibyl  how  cruelly  the  choice  had  been  used 
against  her  kindi'ed.  The  remembrance  smote  Sibyl's 
heart,  if  not  her  conscience.  There  was  an  awkward 
silence,  when  Marguerite  exclaimed:  "Good  gracious! 
is  that  three  o'clock?  I  had  only  meant  to  stay  ten 
minutes,  and  you  have  beguiled  me  into  wasting  twenty  ! 
Dear  Sibyl,  you  will  be  interested  to  hear  that  I  am  as 
poor  as  a  rat,  and  ready  for  any  spare  cash  you  may 
want  to  get  rid  of.  I  just  mention  it  in  case  you  should 
not  like  to  ask  me.  Now  I  must  be  off!"  She  kissed 
her  and  hurried  away, 

"Where  is  she  going  in  such  a  hurry?"  inquired 
Sibyl,  when  Narka  returned,  after  having  closed  the 
door. 

"She  is  gone  to  dress  the  wound  of  a  carter  whose  leg 
was  smashed  under  a  stone,  and  then  amputated.  It  is 
a  frightful  case.  Marguerite  dresses  the  wound  twice  a 
day." 

Sibyl  shuddered.  "It  is  extraordinaiy  how  hard 
Marguerite  has  grown;  she  can  stand  by  without  win- 
cing, and  look  on  at  those  horrors,  while  the  very  sight 
of  blood  makes  me  sick!  But  it  is  much  better  for  one's 
self  and  ethers  not  to  be  so  tender-hearted.  ,  I  should 
think  the  atmosphere  of  this  place,  with  such  misery  all 
about  as  Marguerite  describes,  must  be  very  bad  for  you, 
Narka,  it  is  so  depressing  ?  And  you  want  to  be  cheered 
up.  Now  I  look  at  you,  my  darling,  you  seem  very 
tired.  I  am  sure  you  are  overworking  yourself.  You 
want  Vest.  You  ought  to  be  lying  down  this  minute.  I 
wish  I  could  stay  and  put  you  on  the  sofa  and  I'ead  to 
you  for  an  hour.  Have  you  any  nice  books  ?"^ — she 
glanced  round  at  the  table.  "  When  I  come  back  I  will 
insist  on  your  letting  me  take  care  of  you."  She  stood 
16 


242  Narka. 

up,  and  looked  into  Narka's  great  pathetic  blue-black 
eyes,  and  then  opened  her  arms. 

Narka  let  herself  sink  into  the  loved  embrace  which 
had  so  long  been  her  haven  of  sweetest  rest;  but  sud- 
denly she  recollected  how  that  soft  little  hand  had 
clutched  an  imaginary  knout  and  cut  open  in  desire  the 
flesh  of  the  woman  whom  Basil  loved.  The  recollection 
made  her  blood  run  cold,  and  she  drew  herself  away 
from  the  clasping  arms. 

All  this  time  a  crowd  of  gamins  were  collected  at 
the  door  outside,  staring  at  the  grand  equipage  and 
chafiing  the  fine  flunky.  When  the  owner  of  this 
splendor  came  out  they  ceased  their  chaflBng,  and  stood 
in  silence,  watching  the  ceremony  of  her  getting  into 
the  carriage  and  sinking  back  on  the  cushions,  while 
the  flue  flunky  arranged  her  silken  skirts,  the  glossy 
thorough-breds  meantime  tossing  their  heads  and  paw- 
ing the  ground,  and  giving  every  sign  of  impatience 
and  disgust.  Finally  they  moved  on,  spurning  the 
stones  contemptuously,  and  sti'iking  sparks  with  their 
steel  hoofs — a  comical  parody  on  human  impudence  and 
conceit  admirably  performed  by  well-bred  beasts. 

As  the  carriage  with  its  liveries  and  emblazoned 
panels  jolted  lightly  down  the  roughly  paved  street,  the 
pageant  drew  gazers  to  doors  and  windows,  and  Sibyl 
again  passed  under  the  fire  of  those  sullen  glances  which 
to  her  betokened  the  excess  of  wickedness.  Clearly 
these  people  needed  to  be  held  down  with  a  hand  of 
iron. 

Narka  watched  the  carriage  out  of  sight  from  the  door- 
step. As  she  was  turning  in  she  saw  Madame  Blaquette 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  earnestly  gaz- 
ing into  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"God  direct  me  I"  ejaculated  the  landlady,  in  a  voice 


Narka.  243 

evidently  intended  to  reach  Narka.  Then,  looking-  up : 
"Oh!  it  is  you,  mademoiselle!  I  was  just  considering 
whether  I  ought  to  bestow  an  alms  on  this  poor  woman 
or  not;  she  looTcs  deserviug-,  but  I  may  be  deceived." 

"As  you  have  taken  out  the  penny,  I  think  I  would 
bestow  it,"  replied  Narka. 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  feel  about  it.  Then,  in 
God"s  name,  I  will  risk  it!"  She  presented  the  penny  to 
the  beggar,  who  had  been  patiently  waiting-  while  her 
fate  was  discussed. 

Narka  glanced  at  her  and  noticed  that  she  wore  green 
spectacles,  and  a  bandage  over  one  side  of  her  surpris- 
ingly red  face.  "  I  should  not  have  said  that  she  looked 
deserving,"  was  Narka's  reflection  as  she  turned  in- 
doors; "but  I  don't  suppose  Madame  Blaquette's  penny 
will  do  her  much  harm." 


244  Narka. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

It  may  have  been  fancy,  but  wben  Narka  went  out 
next  morning  it  certainly  did  strike  her  that  there  was 
something  abnormal  in  the  looks  of  the  people  and  the 
atmosphere  of  the  place.  But  she  set  it  down  to  the 
effect  of  Sibyl's  shudderings  and  denunciations,  and 
turned  away  from  the  idea.  Moreover,  her  own  nerves, 
she  knew,  were  always  at  full  stretch,  generally  beyond 
it,  and  it  was  always  safe  to  distrust  her  own  impres- 
sions. She  bethought  her  that  she  would  go  down  to  the 
House  and  hear  what  they  said  there. 

"Was  Sibyl  dreaming,  or  did  she  really  smell  brim- 
stone in  the  air  yesterday  ?"  asked  Narka,  walking  into 
the  dispensary,  where  Marguerite  was  pounding  herbs  in 
a  mortar. 

"I'm  afraid  she  smelt  something,"  Marguerite  re- 
plied, without  looking  up.  "  I  wish  you  had  gone  away 
with  her." 

"I  would  not  have  gone  if  she  had  asked  me;  but  she 
did  not  ask  me." 

Marguerite  made  no  comment  to  this,  but  went  on 
with  her  pounding. 

"Oh,  Marguerite,  what  a  fool  I  have  been  all  my 
life!"  Narka  burst  out,  passionately.  "I  see  now  Sibyl 
never  cai'ed  a  straw  for  me.  She  never  loved  me  a  bit, 
and  she  has  been  feeding  me  on  false  sacraments  of  love 
all  my  life !" 

"  Mon  Dieu!  how  you  do  exaggerate  everything!" 
said  Marguerite,  looking  up  and  tossing  her  head.   "  You. 


Karha.  245 

are  so  terribly  morbid  that  you  turn  everything  in  life 
to  tragedy." 

"And  what  has  life  been  to  me  but  a  tragedy  ever 
since  I  can  remember  ?  It  is  easy  for  you  to  preach,  but 
it  is  enovigh  to  drive  me  mad  to  see  how  little  Sibyl  cares 
about  me!  To  hear  lier  talking  sentimental  stuff  about 
longing  to  hold  my  hand,  when  all  this  time  she  never 
asked  how  I  managed  not  to  starve!  Good  God!  if  I 
were  in  her  place  and  she  in  mine !  But  I  am  a  fool— 
a  fool !"  she  repeated,  passionately.    , 

"Yes,"  said  Marguerite,  with  uncivil  acquiescence, 
while  her  cornette  bobbed  in  meiTy  accompaniment  to 
the  pestle;  "you  were  a  fool  when  you  made  an  idol  of 
a  creature;  and,  as  I  told  you  before,  it  is  the  tumbling 
down  of  your  idol  that  is  hurting  you  so  terribly.  You 
expect  too  much  from  Sibyl,  because  you  gave  her  more 
than  you  ought  to  have  given  to  any  human  creature." 

"Not  near  as  much  as  you  have  given." 

"I?" 

"Yes,  you;  you  have  given  everything  to  your  fel- 
low-creatures— your  time,  your  energies,  your  whole 
life.     I  never  gave  as  much  as  that  to  Sibyl." 

The  pestle  stopped,  and  Mai'guerite  looked  up  in 
amazement. 

"But  I  have  not  given  that  to  creatures.  I  have 
given  it  to  God.  That  is  just  what  makes  the  differ- 
ence." 

There  was  no  answer  to  this.  It  shifted  the  ground 
of  the  argument  too  far.  After  a  moment's  silence  Narka 
said,  "And  so  you  think  there  is  going  to  be  an  emeutef 

"I  am  afraid  there  is  something  brewing.  One  feels 
the  throbbing  of  the  kettle  before  it  boils  over.!'  Mar- 
guerite laid  her  open  hand  downward  on  the  air,  as 
if  touching'  water. 


246  Karka. 

"Does  it  break  out  all  in  a  moment  like  that?" 

"So  they  tell  me.  Our  Sisters  have  seen  terrible 
explosions,  just  like  gunpowder.  The  men  go  down 
into  the  streets  and  fight ;  barricades  start  up  in  every 
direction  as  if  by  magic,  and  then  there  is  firing  and 
slaughtering,  and  the  seven  devils  are  let  loose  and  tlie 
people  go  mad;  first  their  heads  go  mad,  and  then  their 
hearts." 

"  Do  hearts  go  mad,  dear?" 

"I  think  they  nkust.  I  do  believe  that  hatred  creates 
madness,  just  as  fever  does  when  it  gets  to  one's  head. 
And  it  is  so  much  harder  to  cure  a  mad  heart  than  a 
mad  head!  Hatred  is  such  a  malignant  force !  Where 
it  breaks  out  it  devours  everything;  it  is  like  fire.  That 
is  the  dreadful  thing  in  these  revolutions;  they  are 
hatred  in  a  state  of  combustion." 

*'  Are  you  afraid  the  people  will  attack  the  House  ?" 

"Oh  no;  they  never  hurt  us.  But  a  lot  of  our  poor 
people  will  get  into  sad  trouble.  The  police  have  been 
re-enforced,  and  the  troops  are  consigned  to  the  bai'- 
racks,  and  swarms  of  detectives  are  prowling  about  the 
district.  We  have  set  the  children  to  pray,  two  by  two, 
in  the  church  all  day,  and  M.  le  Cure  gave  us  leave  to 
watch  ourselves  in  j)rayer  all  to-night." 

"Is  it  so  near  as  all  that  ?"  Narka  exclaimed,  in  sur- 
prise; " and  you  never  said  a  word  about  it  to  me!" 

"It  was  only  this  morning  that  we  heard  how  alarm- 
ed the  government  was,  and  the  stringent  measures  that 
are  being  taken." 

Marguerite  put  aside  the  pestle  and  mortar,  and  took 
down  from  the  wall  the  little  basket  she  carried  on  her 
errands. 

"You  are  going  to  visit  some  sick  people?  Let 
rae  come  with  you,"  said  Narka. 


Narha.  Ml 

"No;  it  is  a  case  of  small-pox;  you  liad  better  go 
home.  And  if  there  be  any  movement  in  the  streets 
to-morrow  morning,  stay  in-doors.  It  may  blow  oif, 
as  these  threats  sometimes  do;  or  it  may  be  held  down. 
But  we  shall  soon  know.     Au  revoir,  dear." 

They  i^arted  at  the  gate,  and  Narka  went  home.  Now 
that  her  eyes  had  been  opened  to  observe  the  signs  of 
things  that  were  coming,  the  rebellious  element  in  the 
air  had  become  distinctly  sentient,  and  her  pulses  were 
quickened  to  sympathy  with  it.  She,  too,  had  wrongs  to 
redi'ess,  and  she  was  ready  to  side  heart  and  soul  with 
the  people  around  her  who  were  going  to  rebel  and  seek 
redress  for  tlieirs.  She  did  not  stop  to  ask  wliether 
these  wrongs  were  real  or  not;  she  was  in  a  mood  to 
applaud  rebellion ;  her  whole  heart  went  out  in  sympa- 
thy witli  it.  These  people,  like  her,  were  the  victiuis  of 
tyranny;  they  were  politically  free,  but  they  were  the 
slaves  of  those  merciless  tyrants,  the  rich;  they  were 
starved  and  exasperated  to  violence  hy  the  inexorable 
rapacity  of  the  capitalists.  This  might  be  justice  in 
the  eyes  of  the  law,  but  in  the  sight  of  God  it  was  mur- 
der. In  the  sight  of  God  the  rich  one  had  no  more 
right  to  use  the  brute  force  of  money  against  the  poor 
man  than  the  strong  man  to  use  the  brute  force  of 
muscular  strength  against  the  helpless  j)aralytic.  But 
they  arrogated  the  right,  and  this  was  the  universal 
wrong  that  was  crying  out  for  vengeance  all  over  the 
world. 

The  passion  of  i-evenge  had  been  sleeping  in  Narka's 
heart,  ready  to  wake  up  at  the  first  opportunity.  Time 
had  not  made  less  heinous  in  her  eyes  any  of  the  wi'ongs 
that  she  had  suffered,  or  weakened  her  sense  of  their  in- 
justice. Herein  lies  the  vital  difference  between  pain 
and  evil;  the  flight  of  time,  passing  over  pain,  eflFaces 


248  Narka. 

tlie  very  remembrance  of  it,  and  washes  away  the  traces 
of  suffering,  but  it  leaves  the  memory  of  evil  and  the 
ruin  it  has  made  untouched ;  the  lapse  of  years  atones 
for  nothing';  forgetfulness  is  not  remedial  of  guilt.  It 
"was  not  the  fact  of  her  father  and  brother  having  died  in 
Siberia,  of  her  mother  lying  in  the  graveyard  at  Yrakow 
— it  was  not  these  sorrows  in  themselves  that  rankled 
and  festered  in  Narka's  heart,  making  it  burn  for  re- 
venge and  throb  in  passionate  sympathy  with  rebellion ; 
it  was  the  fact  that  those  deaths  were  the  work  of  hu- 
man cruelty  and  injustice.  What  could  be  done  to 
better  the  world  while  these  sinister  powers  of  evil  were 
ruling  it  ?  There  was  nothing  but  to  rise  up  and  de- 
stroy them. 

She  got  out  those  articles  of  Basil's  and  read  them. 
They  were  like  the  sound  of  martial  music  to  her  excited 
nerves.  She  Avas  putting  them  away,  when  the  con- 
cierge knocked  at  her  door  and  handed  in  a  letter.  It 
vv^as  from  Ivan.  Was  this  news  of  Basil  \  Narka  open- 
ed it  eagerly.      This  is  what  Ivan  said: 

"  On  the  10th  there  will  be  a  meeting  at  which  some 
important  news  will  be  communicated.  If  you  don't 
■write  to  forbid  me,  I  will  meet  you  iii  the  gallery  of  the 
Luxembourg  on  Fridaj^  at  half  past  one,  and  we  will  go 
together." 

This  invitation  would  have  been  to  Narka  like  the 
braying  of  the  trumpet  to  the  war-horse  if  she  had  not 
already  been  to  one  of  the  assemblies  in  question.  She 
suspected  the  news  was  about  Basil,  but  even  this  temp- 
tation could  not  lure  her  again  into  the  company  of 
Olga  Borzidoff  and  the  rest  of  them.  She  was  ready  to 
sympathize  actively  in  every  efPort  to  overthrow  ty- 
rants, but  she  would  rather  go  out  and  fight  on  the  bar- 
ricades, if  barricades  there  wei'e  to  be,  than  deliberately 


Narha.  249 

come  into  contact  witli  the  people  she  had  met  before  at 
one  of  these  clandestine  meetings.  Besides,  who  could 
tell  what  might  happen  between  this  and  the  10th  ?  She 
went  to  bed  late,  and  dreamed  all  night  of  Basil,  of  dan- 
gers shared  with  him,  of  hair-breadth  escapes,  of  rescue 
at  last,  and  then  she  awoke  and  found  herself  still  alone, 
and  life  still  a  tragedy  in  which  the  romance  of  love  had 
yet  to  be  enacted. 


250  Narha, 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

When  Narka  went  out  to  make  her  little  provisions 
next  morning  she  perceived  at  once  that  there  was  a 
movement  of  some  sort  on  foot.  The  people  were  out 
in  the  streets  talking  excitedly  in  groups.  She  asked 
a  young  workman  what  was  the  matter. 

"The  people  have  risen !"  he  said, triumphantly.  "I 
have  been  helping  at  the  barricades  since  daybreak;  I 
have  only  run  off  to  get  a  mouthful  of  food.  We  are 
going  to  have  a  journee!  Keep  in-doors,  ma  belle  ci- 
toyenne — the  troops  are  coming  down  the  boulevards— 
unless  you  like  to  come  and  lend  us  a  hand  on  the  bar- 
ricades." 

He  marched  off  in  high  good-humor,  proud  as  a  pea- 
cock; the  women  were  looking  after  him;  some  like 
furies ;  others  scared  and  anxious. 

Narka  hurried  home,  made  a  hasty  meal,  and  put 
on  her  bonnet  to  go  down  to  the  House.  As  she  opened 
her  own  door  she  saw  Dr.  Schenk  on  the  threshold,  with 
his  hand  on  the  bell. 

"You  are  going  out!"  he  said,  in  surprise. 

"Yes;  I  am  going  to  the  Sisters'  House.  It  seems 
there  is  an  emeitie."     She  stood  back,  and  he  came  in. 

"  Yes,  a  very  serious  emeute.  You  must  not  venture 
out  into  the  streets;  the  firing  may  begin  anywhere  at 
any  moment.  I  have  come  to  take  you  away.  You 
can't  remain  here  in  the  midst  of  such  danger.  Put  up 
what  you  want  in  a  little  bag,  and  come  away  at  once. 
I  have  a  cab  waiting  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  X ; 


Sarka.  251 

we  can  get  round  through  a  back  way."  He  spoke  with 
quiet  authority",  just  as  when  she  had  been  his  patient 
he  had  ordered  her  to  do  this  or  avoid  that.  Narka  was 
bewildered. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  take  me  to  V  she  said. 

Dr.  Schenk  looked  at  her  in  silence  with  a  steady  gaze 
that  had  something  magnetic  in  it.  Then,  drawing  a 
step  nearer,  "There  is  only  one  place  where  you  can 
go  with  safety  and  dignity,"  he  said;  "that  is  your 
husband's  house.  Don't  start,  Narka;  listen  to  me.  I 
have  loved  you  from  the  first  hour  we  met.  I  did  not 
come  here  to-day  to  tell  you  so;  I  should  have  been 
afraid  it  might  have  driven  you  from  me.  I  knew  you 
must  be  slowly  won,  and  I  was  satisfied  to  wait.  I 
would  have  waited  seven  yeai's.  But  there  is  no  time 
to  wait  now ;  I  am  driven  to  speak ;  it  is  the  only  way 
of  rescuing  you.  I  love  you.  Accept  me  for  your 
husband,  and  I  will  trust  to  winning  your  love  by  the 
strength  of  my  own,  by  the  whole  devotion  of  my  life." 

Narka  had  been  too  startled  and  surprised  to  speak. 

"Why,  I  thought  you  knew?.  . .  ."  she  said,  hesita- 
ting, and  her  color  rose  and  spread  to  a  beautiful  car- 
mine. "Did  not  Ivan  tell  you?  I  am  engaged  to  Ba- 
sil Zorokoff." 

"That  is  an  idle  dream,"  said  Schenk,  unmoved. 
"You  will  never  be  Zorokoff's  wife." 

"What  do  you  mean ?" 

"He  will  never  marry  you ;  he  does  not  love  you." 

"How  dare  you  say  that!"  cried  Narka,  and  the  blue 
fire  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

"He  does  not  love  you,"  Schenk  I'epeated,  in  the 
same  quiet  tone.  "If  he  loved  you,  he  would  not  have 
left  j^ou  all  this  time  to  work  for  your  daily  bread  alone, 
battling  with  the  perils  and  cruelties  of  want.     Don't 


252  Narha. 

tell  me  he  could  not  help  it.  If  he  had  loved  you  he 
would  have  helped  it;  but  he  loves  nothing  but  ambi- 
tion. He  might  have  married  you,  from  a  sense  of 
honor,  if  he  had  been  his  own  master.  But  love  you! 
Child,  your  love  sweeps  over  him  in  a  high  tide  of  pas- 
sion that  he  no  more  vibrates  to  than  an  oyster  vibrates 
to  the  roll  of  the  Atlantic!"  The  words  were  full  of 
passion,  but  Schenk's  voice  was  as  cold  and  level  as  if 
he  had  been  speaking  on  any  ordinary  subject;  the  fire 
in  him  was  at  white  heat;  but  it  did  not  appear;  it  was 
concentrated  within.  There  was  somethiug  unhuman 
in  this  cold-blooded  self-command  that  repelled  Narka 
indescribably,  but  it  helped  her  to  be  calm. 

"Dr.  Schenk,"  she  said,  trying  to  keep  her  loathing 
out  of  her  voice,  "  I  will  not  forget  that  you  have  shown 
me  great  kindness;  but  I  must  remind  you  that  nothing 
can  justify  your  speaking  of  what  is  strictlj^  and  sacred- 
ly personal  to  me.  I  am  as  sure  of  the  love  of  Basil 
Zorokoflf  as  I  am  of  mine  for  him.  You  are  not  capa- 
ble of  understanding  a  nature  like  his.  He  is  too  far 
above  you." 

Schenk  smiled  compassionately.  "Keep  your  illu- 
sions," he  said;  "I  don't  want  to  destroy  them;  I  only 
w^ant  to  prevent  them  from  destroying  you.  You  are 
sacrificing  your  youth  to  a  phantom.  Zorokoff  will 
never  break  through  his  present  bonds  to  marry  you. 
His  own  indifference  is  in  league  with  the  strong  will 
of  his  father  and  his  sister.  Give  up  that  dream !  Wor- 
ship him  as  a  patriot,  if  you  will,  but  give  your  love  to 
me.  I  love  you  with  my  whole  soul;  I  will  be  your 
slave  all  my  life.  You  care  nothing  for  the  gauds  that 
other  women  covet;  but  these  too  I  can  put  at  your 
feet;  my  fortune  is  ample.  Be  my  wife,  Narka,  and 
let  us  work  in  the  good  cause  together!"     He  held  out 


WarTca.  253 

his  hand  to  her,  but  she  fell  back  with  a  gesture  of 
denial.  Schenk  thought  it  expressed  disgust.  "My 
hand  is  clean ;  there  is  no  man's  blood  upon  it," he  said, 
and  there  was  a  sinister  gleam  in  his  eye. 

Narka,  stung  to  the  quick,  flashed  back  at  him  a 
glance  of  hatred  and  defiance.  "That  taunt  covers  a 
cowardly  lie!"  she  said;  "but  I  am  glad  that  you 
uttered  it ;  it  shows  me  your  true  character,  and  enables 
me  to  dismiss  you  without  a  shadow  of  regret.  Go,  and 
never  cross  my  path  again !" 

She  pointed  to  the  door,  but  Schenk  did  not  obey 
her.  He  turned  away,  and  paced  the  room  twice,  three 
times;  his  head  was  bent,  his  right  hand  was  thrust 
into  his  breast,  his  features  were  working  convulsively. 
There  was  something  terrible  and  pitiable  in  the  sight  of 
this  sudden  passion,  in  the  agony  of  conflict  that  was 
going  on  within  him.  Narka,  standing  by  the  mantel- 
piece, watched  him,  divided  between  fear,  anger,  and  a 
rising  sense  of  pity.  He  had  flung  his  love  so  gener- 
ously at  her  feet,  she  felt  sorry  for  him,  in  spite  of  those 
insolent  and  cruel  words.  Suddenly  Schenk  came  and 
stood  before  her.  The  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
him  within  the  last  few  minutes  was  frightful  to  see; 
his  sallow  pallor  had  turned  to  a  livid  gray;  there  was 
a  red  line  across  his  forehead,  as  if  he  had  been  struck 
with  a  lash.  "Forgive  me,"  he  said,  meekly;  "I  have 
behaved  like  a  fool  and  a  brute.  My  love  for  you  must 
be  my  excuse.  I  love  you  so  madly  there  is  nothing 
under  heaven  I  would  not  have  done  to  win  you !  But 
I  will  never  trouble  you  again.  Try  and  forgive  what 
I  said  of  Zorokoff .  There  was  nothing  in  it.  It  was  the 
fling  of  a  jealous  man.  Jealousy  makes  men  mad.  I 
was  mad  just  now.  But  it  is  past.  And  now  what  can  I 
do  to  help  you  ?     Is  there  no  friend  that  you  can  go  to?" 


254  Narha. 

Narka's  passionate  anger  was  disarmed,  but  with  it  her 
strength  of  self-command  gave  way.  She  struggled  to 
hold  it  for  a  moment,  and  then  burst  into  tears.  Schenk 
forced  her  gently  into  a  seat,  and  stood  over  her,  wait- 
ing. 

"I  am  very  sorry  this  has  happened,"  she  said,  after 
a  while,  lifting  her  head  and  swallowing  a  sob;  "I  am 
very  sorry.  No,  there  is  nothing  you  can  do  for  me. 
Good-by." 

"I  can't  bear  the  idea  of  your  bemg  here  alone,"  he 
said.  ' '  Is  there  no  one  within  reach  ? — Madame  de 
Beaucrillon  ?" 

Narka  made  a  negative  movement  with  her  head.  "  I 
don't  run  the  risks  up  here  that  you  imagine.  The  peo- 
ple won't  hurt  me.  I  am  Soeur  Marguerite's  friend.  I 
was  going  down  to  the  House  to  see  her." 

She  stood  up.  Schenk  saw  there  was  no  use  in  urging 
her. 

"I  will  see  you  that  far,"  he  said;  "as  yet  the  road 
there  is  clear." 

He  opened  the  door,  and  they  went  out  together. 
Narka  noticed  the  beggar  standing  at  the  door  of  the 
house  opposite.  It  struck  her  as  odd  that  she  should 
be  quietly  stationed  there  waiting  for  pennies  at  such  a 
crisis,  for  nobody  was  abroad  except  those  who  were 
going  to  fight.  The  street  had  already  undergone  a 
change:  every  shop  that  had  a  shutter  had  put  it  up, 
and  everybody  had  gone  in-doors. 

Narka  saw  and  felt  the  change  without  being  con- 
scious of  it.  Those  cruel  words  of  Schenk's, ' '  lie  might 
Ttiarry  you  from  a  sense  of  honor,  hut  he  does  not  love 
you,''''  were  like  the  bite  of  a  snake  in  her  flesh. 

They  walked  on  rapidly  to  the  House,  and  did  not 
speak  until  Schenk  said  good-by  to  her  at  the  gate. 


NarJca.  255 

The  court  was  a  scene  of  extraordinary  excitement; 
people  were  coming  and  going;  the  children  of  the 
schools  were  flocking  in ;  they  had  been  sent  home,  but 
the  parents  had  come  back  with  them,  entreating  the 
Sisters  to  keep  them  over  the  night. 

"But  where  are  we  to  put  them?"  exclaimed  Soeur 
Jeanne,  in  dismay;  "every  bed,  every  mattress  in  the 
house  is  more  than  filled." 

"Pack  them  up  to  the  infirmary,"  suggested  Margue- 
I'ite. 

' '  The  infirmary !"  retorted  Sceur  Jeanne.  ' '  There  are 
ninety  children  packed  into  it  already ;  they  have  hard- 
ly room  to  turn  round." 

"What  does  that  matter,  ma  so&urf  urged  Margue- 
rite ;  "  where  there  is  no  room  for  ninety,  there  is  room 
enough  for  a  hundred.  Get  along  with  you  all  to  the 
infirmary !"  And  the  children,  in  high  glee  at  the 
lawless  opportunity,  went  tumbling  up  the  stairs. 

"  Oh,  Narka,  I  am  so  thankful  to  see  you !"  cried  Mar- 
guerite, perceiving  her.  "Here  is  a  note  from  Sibyl; 
it  has  just  come.  She  wants  us  both  to  go  off  with  her 
to  Beaucrillon  by  the  noon  express." 

"Are  you  going  ?"  inquired  Narka. 

"I?  What  a  notion!  I  thought  nobody  but  Sibyl 
could  have  imagined  such  a  thing  possible,"  Margue- 
rite laughed.  "Just  think  how  busy  we  are  going  to 
be!"  she  went  on.  "The  big  school-room  is  turned  into 
an  ambulance,  and  they  will  be  carrying  in  tlie  wound- 
ed as  soon  as  the  fighting  begins." 

While  she  spoke  there  was  a  detonation  of  fire-arms, 
first  a  single  shot,  then  a  volley,  followed  by  a  prolong- 
ed shout  that  rose  in  the  distance,  and  came  gradually 
nearer  as  street  after  street  took  it  up.  The  women 
who  were  in  the  court  hurried  away;  the  Sisters  went 


256  Narka. 

quickly  in-doors  with  the  children,  who  had  lingered 
outside,  full  of  curiosity  and  delighted  excitement.  In 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  place  was  cleared,  and  Mar- 
guerite and  Narka  were  left  alone  at  the  gate. 

"You  had  better  run  home  at  once,"  .said  Marguerite; 
"  the  road  is  still  clear.  But  don't  loiter,  and  don't  stir 
out  while  the  firing  lasts.      It  is  not  likely — " 

The  sentence  was  cut  short  by  a  terrific  volley  that 
sounded  much  nearer  this  time.  Marguerite  turned 
pale,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

"Why  may  I  not  stay  here  with  you  ?"  said  Narka. 
"  I  could  help  in  the  ambulance." 

"  Yes,  you  might" — Marguerite  hesitated — "only  I 
may  be  sent  down  to  the  barricades  to  attend  to  the 
wounded  who  can't  be  carried  here.     Still,  if  \o\x  like — " 

As  she  spoke  there  came  rushing  past  the  gate  a  band 
of  roughs,  shouldering  muskets  and  shouting  a  ribald 
song. 

"And  these  are  the  people  you  are  going  to  risk  your 
life  for  ?"  said  Narka — "men  who  probably  don't  even 
know  the  name  of  God !" 

"Perhaps  not;  but  God  knows  their  name,  and  has 
died  for  every  one  of  them.  That  is  why  it  is  worth 
while,"  said  Marguerite.  She  spoke  calmly,  but  Narka 
could  see  that  she  was  agitated. 

"Are  you  not  afraid,  dear  ?"  she  said,  looking  tender- 
ly down  on  the  small  figure. 

"Afraid  ?"  The  tone  held  just  a  soupqon  of  haughti- 
ness. The  question  implied  something  which  stirred 
Marguerite's  blood,  and  reminded  her  that  certain  in- 
herited instincts  of  her  race  had  not  been  as  eflfectively 
repudiated  as  its  outward  insignia.  Noli  irritare  leonem 
was  the  motto  of  her  house,  and  though  the  lion  lay  dor- 
jjiant  beneath  the  dove,  just  as  the  lady's  silken  attire 


Narka.  257 

had  disappeared  under  the  peasant's  gown,*  there  were 
moments  when  the  lion  woke  up,  and  when  the  antique 
French  patrician,  than  whom  the  womanhood  of  all  the 
races  offers  no  loftier  or  lovelier  type,  asserted  her  in- 
alienable dignity.  "No,  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said, 
with  penitent  humility.  "What  is  there  to  be  afraid 
of?" 

"The  firing,  the  bullets:  suppose  you  were  to  be 
killed?" 

' '  Killed  ?  No  such  luck !"  Marguerite  tossed  her  head 
and  laughed. 

A  suspicion  darted  through  Narka's  mind.  "Mar- 
guerite, you  are  wearied  of  your  life,"  she  said. 

"  Wearied  of  my  life  ?  I  should  never  be  wearied  of 
it  if  I  did  not  get  homesick  now  and  then." 

"Ah!  Then  you  do  regret  the  life  you  have  re- 
nounced ?" 

Marguerite  looked  up  in  quick  surprise,  and  then 
began  to  laugh.  "I  meant  homesick  for  heaven.  If  I 
were  shot  down  at  the  barricades  in  the  service  of 
charity,  it  would  be  like  martyrdom,  and  I  should  go 
straight  to  heaven.  Would  not  that  be  luck,  dear 
Narka  ?  Only  such  a  grand  death  is  much  too  good  for 
me  to  expect."  She  gave  a  little  sigh.  She  looked  veiy 
tired,  though  she  was  excited.  Something  in  her  man- 
ner and  voice  struck  Narka  to  the  heart.  Could  it  be 
that  this  longing  for  martyrdom  was  prophetic  ?  Nar- 
Jia  resolved  to  stay  and  share  the  risks,  whatever  they 
might  be. 

*  The  coarse  gray  gown  and  stiff  white  coiffe  of  the  Sister  of 
Charity  were  the  costume  of  the  peasants  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
when  the  order  was  founded  by  St.  Vincent  de  Paul, 


17 


258  Rarha. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  enieute  lasted  six  days.  Then  came  peace  and 
the  day  of  reckoning.  La  Villette  was  cowering  in  its 
kennel  like  a  whipped  hound.  Numbers  who  had  been 
taken  fighting  on  the  barricades  and  in  the  streets  were 
in  prison;  but  greater  numbers  still  had  escaped,  and 
amongst  them  many  of  the  ringleaders,  and  these  were 
skulking  in  holes  and  corners,  nursing  their  wounds, 
and  dodging  the  police,  who  were  in  hot  pursuit  of  them. 
For  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  Whatever  was  to  be 
done  must  be  done  quickly.  In  France,  more  than  else- 
where, punishment  brooks  no  delay.  To  be  effective, 
it  must  be  dealt  out  promptly,  while  public  feeling  is  at 
white  heat  of  indignation  against  the  culprits;  delay  is 
fatal;  for  this  righteous  anger  cools  very  quickly,  sym- 
pathy veers  round  to  the  criminals,  the  most  deserved 
penalty  is  then  looked  on  as  tyrannical  and  vindictive, 
the  heaviest  offenses  are  condoned,  and  the  law-breaker 
becomes  a  victim,  and  not  infrequently  a  martyr. 

The  white  cornettes  had  been  the  confidantes  of  the 
people  all  through.  Every  day  before  dawn  wives  and 
mothers  were  to  be  seen  waiting  at  the  gate  of  the  House, 
asking  for  help  and  shelter  for  husbands  and  sons  and. 
brothers;  "  mon  homme"  had  held  a  barricade  for  ten 
houts,  and  was  a  dead  man  if  the  police  caught  him ; 
and  so  on  with  scores  of  others. 

Marguerite's  wish  had  been  disappointed.  She  had 
been  a  martyr  only  in  spirit  and  in  self-sacrifice,;  but  in 
the  eyes  of  the  people  she  had  won  the  palm  branch  as 


JVarM.  259 

fully  as  if  she  had  shed  her  blood  for  them.  They  had 
loved  her  before ;  they  now  worshipped  her ;  and  Narka, 
who  had  been  her  companion  through  those  terrible 
days,  shared  in  the  prestige  that  surrounded  her.  Early 
on  the  morning  of  the  seventh  day  they  went  out  to- 
gether on  their  stealthy  round  of  illegal  visits  of  mercy 
through  the  district,  and  it  was  a  fresh  wonder  to  Narka 
to  see  how  Marguerite  rose  to  the  new  and  strange  diffi- 
culties of  the  position.  Sometimes  she  spoke  to  the 
culprits  in  a  tone  of  severe  command  so  amusingly  at 
variance  with  her  little  figure  and  her  sweet  young  face 
that  it  raised  a  smile ;  but  this  unconscious  air  of  comedy 
in  no  way  detracted  from  the  impressiveness  of  what 
she  said.  To  those  who  wei^e  expiating  their  ci'iminal 
folly  in  bodily  pain,  suffering  from  wounds  and  from 
remorse,  her  compassion  was  boundless ;  her  voice  was 
full  of  pity  and  healing  balm,  and  her  smile  had  a  pathos 
that  is  seldom  seen  except  on  lips  that  have  quivered 
with  pain.  As  Narka  went  with  her  through  the  reek- 
ing slums  and  tenements,  and  saw  her  exorcising  the 
evil  spirits,  subduing  impotent  rage  to  humble  peni- 
tence, making  the  haters  ashamed  of  their  hate,  she  be- 
thought her  how  feeble  were  her  own  passionate  theo- 
ries for  reforming  the  world  compared  to  this  simple 
philosophy  of  love.  And  yet  surely  there  was  a  flaw  in 
the  philosophy  somewhere.  It  was  not  natural,  it  was 
not  possible,  that  Marguerite  de  Beaucrillon  could  really 
feel  for  these  low,  vicious,  enraged  pariahs  the  love  she 
professed  for  them.  Was  her  system,  then,  a  lie,  a  fair 
edifice  built  on  a  rotten  foundation  of  deceit  and  flat- 
tery? "I  will  have  it  out  with  her!"  Narka  said,  as 
they  emerged  from  a  dank  cellar,  where  Marguerite  had 
been  administering  the  salve  of  loving  words  and  en- 
couragement to  a  wretched  man  who  had  led  a  whole 


260  Narka. 

band  of  well-meaning  lads  to  the  slaughter,  and  come 
out  of  it  with  despair  and  a  mortal  wound. 

"How  could  you  play  the  hypocrite  to  that  poor 
wretch,  and  make  believe  you  love  him  ?"  Narka  said. 
They  were  crossing  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  Cour  des 
Chats. 

"It  is  not  hypocrisy;  I  do  love  him,"  Marguerite 
answered,  in  some  surprise. 

' '  Nonsense !  Say  you  pity  him — that  I  can  believe ; 
but  that  you  love  that  dirty  savage — it  is  impossible !" 

"There  are  many  kinds  of  love,"  said  Marguerite. 
"There  is  a  love  of  the  head,  and  a  love  of  the  senses, 
and  a  love  of  the  will — that  is  the  best,  the  true  one;  it 
is  the  only  love  that  is  commanded  us:  'He  who  does 
the  will  of  my  Father. . .  .'  The  Italian  girl  is  a  true 
theologian  when  she  says  of  her  lover,  Mi  vuole  tanto 
bene."" 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  theology  of  it,  but  I  am  sure 
if  these  people  knew  that  your  love  for  them  is  part  of 
the  Ten  Commandments  it  would  not  be  so  efficacious; 
what  flatters  them  is  the  belief  that  you  have  a  personal 
love  for  them,  whereas  you  simply  pity  them,  and  for- 
give them." 

"And  what  is  love  but  an  eternal  forgiving!"  Mar- 
guerite murmured,  saying  it  rather  to  herself  than  to 
Narka.  They  were  at  the  door  of  Antoine  Drex's  house, 
so  the  argument  dropped. 

Antoine  was  hiding.  He  had  been  recklessly  promi- 
nent all  through  the  riots,  and  the  police  were  actively 
searching  for  liim.  The  Sisters  had  brought  him  food 
secretly,  and  Marguerite  came  to  dress  his  wounds.  He 
had  left  his  own  lodging  and  taken  refuge  with  his  old 
mother  in  this  miserable  tenement,  recently  inhabited 
by  a  man  who  had  fallen  on  a  barricade,  and  whose  idiot 


Narha.  261 

child  was  now  moaning  on  its  bed  with  fever,  while  la 
mere  Drex  tried  to  soothe  it. 

Narka  assisted  Marguerite  in  dressing  Antoine's 
wound ;  it  was  a  bad  one  in  the  head,  but  not  danger- 
ous ;  then  she  went  to  see  if  the  child  wanted  any  help. 
"Santez!  santez!"  wailed  the  little  creature,  staring  at 
her  with  mindless  eyes,  now  glittering  with  the  light  of 
fever. 

"What  is  she  calling  for?"  Narka  asked. 

"She  wants  me  to  sing  to  her,"  said  the  old  woman : 
"poor  Binard  used  to  sing  the  child  to  sleep  of  a  night; 
a  good  thing  it  was  for  him  too ;  it  kept  him  from  the 
cabaret  ever  since  his  wife's  death.  I  can't,  vfia  petiote 
— I  can't,"  she  repeated,  as  the  child  kept  on  her  monot- 
onous cry:  "Santez!  santez!"  "When  I  was  young  I 
could  turn  a  tune  as  well  as  the  rest  of  them,"  continued 
Madame  Drex,  with  a  certain  complacency  in  the  recol- 
lection of  her  lost  powers,  "but  my  old  voice  now  is  as 
cracked  as  an  empty  nutshell.  You  could  not  sing  a 
cantique  to  quiet  her,  ma  petite  dame  ?" 

The  question  sent  a  sharp  pang  through  Narka.  In 
the  excitement  and  busy  exertions  of  the  last  week  she 
had  forgotten  all  about  her  lost  voice,  but  this  piteous 
supplication  of  the  sick  child  reminded  her  of  it,  and 
smote  her  with  a  new  regret.  With  the  intense  desire 
there  came  to  her  a  sudden  vivifying  inward  force,  swift 
and  potent  as  the  touch  of  an  electric  spring.  She 
cleared  her  throat  and  began  to  warble,  first  in  a  soft 
undertone,  as  if  trying  an  instrument  that  she  was  not 
sure «*f,  whose  strings  might  snap;  but  she  soon  grew 
reassured,  and  her  voice  rose,  and  gained  in  volume,  and 
rang  out  in  clear,  sweet  tones. 

Marguerite  could  hardly  believe  her  ears.  It  seemed 
like  a  miracle — one  of  those  miracles  of  charity  that 


262  Narha. 

she  herself  performed  day  after  day  in  the  desolate 
places.  She  crushed  the  sugar  noiselessly  in  the  tisane 
she  was  preparing  for  Antoine  Drex,  and  kept  mur- 
muring to  herself,  with  a  smile:  "God  is  love!  God 
is  love !" 

Antoine's  eyes  were  fixed  on  Narka  as  if  she  were 
some  visitant  from  another  world.  She  looked  like  one, 
as  she  sat  singing  by  the  poverty-stricken  bed,  the  flush 
of  a  pure  emotion  on  her  face,  a  light  of  joy  in  her 
luminous  dark  eyes. 

When  the  song — a  Russian  ballad — was  ended,  the 
child  called  out,  "EncoM  enco'!"  And  Narka,  stirred 
by  that  encore  as  she  had  never  been  by  the  applause  of 
a  salon,  sang  again  ;  this  time,  in  French,  Mignon's 
lament,  "Rendez-moi  la  patrie,  ou  laissez-moi  mourir!" 
The  child  grew  calmer,  and  ceased  to  toss  on  her  pillow ; 
by  the  time  the  song  was  ended  she  had  fallen  asleep. 
La  mere  Drex  lifted  up  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of  won- 
derment and  admiration.  Narka  rose  and  moved  softly 
out  of  the  room  after  Marguerite.  When  they  were  out 
on  the  landing,  by  a  common  impulse  the  two  friends 
turned  and  kissed  one  another.  Their  hearts  were  t<5o 
full  for  speech. 

On  reaching  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  they  found  that 
a  crowd  had  assembled  before  the  house.  Marguerite 
at  once  guessed  that  the  police  had  tracked  Antoine,  and 
stepped  bravely  forward  to  meet  the  enemy. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  said. 

"Ma  sceur,"  answered  a  blouse,  "we  wanted  to  see 
whether  it  was  you  or  the  Virgin  Mary  thj^t  was  singing 
up  there." 

"  It  was  neither  one  nor  the  other,  you  silly  people!" 
said  Marguerite,  intensely  relieved;  "it  was  my  friend" 
■ — pointing  to  Narka.      "Hush!"  she  cried,  seeing  they 


JSFarka.  263 

were  going  to  cheer.  "There  is  a  sick  child  up  thei*e 
that  has  just  fallen  asleep.     Don't  wake  her!" 

Obedient  to  Soeur  Marguerite  as  usual,  they  walked 
on  silently,  making  an  escort  to  her  and  Narka  across 
the  court,  and  accompanying  them  to  the  end  of  the 
lane  beyond  it.  Then,  as  by  a  common  accord,  they 
raised  a  ringing  cheer :  ' '  Vive  le  rossignol !  Vive  Tamie 
de  la  Sceur  Marguei*ite !" 

The  ovation  brought  the  wild  roses  into  Narka's 
cheeks,  and  made  her  heart  swell  with  a  sense  of  victory 
unlike  anything  she  had  ever  felt  before. 

It  had  been  an  exciting  morning,  and  she  was  very 
tired  as  she  walked  home.  On  reaching  her  own  door 
it  occurred  to  her  that  this  was  the  tenth,  the  day  of 
the  meeting.  At  this  very  hour  it  was  in  full  swing, 
and  Ivan  Gorff  was  wondering  why  she  had  neither 
written  nor  met  him  at  the  trysting-place. 


264  Narha. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Just  as  Narka  had  shut  herself  in  and  sat  down  to 
realize  the  happy  fact  of  her  voice's  return,  the  main 
street  of  the  Place  was  thrown  into  excitement  by  an 
accident.  A  cab  containing  two  men  was  coming 
quietly  up  the  street,  when  the  horse  took  fright  and 
rushed  blindly  on,  struck  against  a  cart  and  fell,  over- 
turning the  cab.  One  of  the  travellers,  who  was  in  the 
act  of  jumping  out,  paid  for  this  want  of  presence  of 
mind  by  an  ugly  cut  in  the  head;  the  other  in  attempt- 
ing to  follow  him  had  hurt  his  leg,  and  lay  groaning 
in  the  bottom  of  the  overturned  cab.  Two  gamins 
jumped  up  on  the  wheel  to  look  in  at  him. 

"It  is  the  Commissary  of  Police!"  cried  one  of  them, 
turning  to  the  by-standers.  His  face  was  a  picture; 
it  expressed  a  keen  sense  of  the  humorous  side  of  the 
situation,  with  a  dread  of  "catching  it"  if  he  were  over- 
heard by  the  still  powerful  though  prostrate  function- 
ary. For  it  was,  in  truth,  no  less  a  person  than  the 
mighty  Commissary  who  lay  trapped  in  the  upset  ve- 
hicle, groaning  with  a  sprained  ankle  like  a  common 
man.  A  crowd  had  gathered  in  a  moment.  No  one 
recognized  the  man  on  the  pavement,  but  all  shrewdly 
suspected  him  to  be  a  police  agent  come  to  participate 
in  some  important  arrest.  Anyhow,  the  pair  were  after 
no  good.  It  was  clearly  a  judgment  of  Providence  that 
had  overtaken  them,  in  favor  of  the  poor  wretch  they 
were  after,  and  the  fun  of  the  thing  was  delicious.  Peo- 
ple came  from  the  neighboring  shops  and  volunteered 
help.     The  cab  was  soon  set  on  its  wheels. 


Mxrka.  265 

"I  have  hurt  my  foot  badly,"  said  the  Commissary. 
"  Is  there  a  doctor  anywliere  near  V 

"We  are  close  to  the  Sisters'  House,  monsieur,"  said 
a  workman ;  "you  had  better  let  us  take  you  there  while 
the  doctor  is  fetched."  Another  cab  was  called,  and 
the  two  injured  men  were  helped  into  it  and  driven  off. 

Scaur  Marguerite  was  in  the  dispensary,  and  saw  the 
cab  stop  at  the  gate  with  its  procession  of  ragamuffins. 
Presently  the  two  Commissaries  were  assisted  across  the 
court  into  the  House. 

In  a  moment  several  Sisters  were  in  attendance.  The 
injuries  proved  more  painful  than  serious,  and  the  Sis- 
ters were  quite  capable  of  dealing  with  them  without  the 
doctor.  As  soon  as  the  Commissary's  sprain  had  been 
attended  to,  and  he  was  made  comfortable  on  an  im- 
provised sofa,  with  pillows  at  his  back,  he  asked  for 
writing  materials,  and  wrote  a  short  note.  Then  beck- 
oning to  Mai'guerite,  "  Ma  sceur,"  he  said,  in  a  confiden- 
tial tone,  "I  want  you  to  do  a  little  commission  for  me. 
I  want  you  to  take  a  cab  and  drive  to  the  Prefecture, 
and  ask  to  see  M.  le  Prefet — you  will  send  in  my  card — 
and  then  give  this  note  into  his  hands." 

"Ah!"  Marguerite's  look  of  intense  curiosity  was  ir- 
resistible. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is  about,"  whispered  the  Com- 
missary. "I  and  my  colleague  came  here  to  arrest  a 
scoundrel  named  Drex — Antoine  Drex;  but  we  have 
been  hindered  as  you  see.  Now  it  is  most  necessary 
they  should  know  this  at  once  at  the  Prefecture,  and 
send  on  two  others  to  do  it,  or  the  fellow  may  get  wind 
of  the  matter  and  slip  through  our  fingers.  You  under- 
stand ?" 

"Oh  yes,  monsieur,  I  understand."  Marguerite's 
heart  was  thumping  so  that  she  wondered  the  Commis- 


266  Narha. 

sary  did  not  hear  it  and  suspect.  ' '  I  don't  think  they 
would  let  me  see  M.  le  Prefet,"  she  said,  turning-  the 
letter  in  her  hand ;  ' '  had  I  not  better  say  you  want 
some  one  to  be  sent  up  here  to  you?" 

"No,  no;  that  would  lose  too  much  time,"  he  said, 
impatiently,  "They  will  let  you  in  at  once  when  you 
show  my  card  with  that  word  written  on  it." 

"Is  he  suspected  of  anything  very  bad,  this  Antoine 
Drex  ?"  she  inquired,  with  an  idea  that  every  minute's 
delay  might  help  Antoine. 

"He  is  not  suspected — he  is  known  to  be  a  danger- 
ous villain.  Go,  ma  soeur;  not  a  word  to  any  one  here, 
but  go!" 

Marguerite  slipped  the  letter  up  her  sleeve  and  went 
out.  Once  in  the  street,  she  stood  debating.  It  was  a 
hard  task  that  was  set  her.  Must  she  execute  it  ?  Poor 
Antoine!  She  knew  he  was  more  sinned  against  than 
sinning.  But  a  voice  whispered,  "  You  are  bound  to 
obey  the  law.''^  She  heard  it;  still  she  hesitated.  Sud- 
denly another  voice  whispered:  "Charity  is  the  greatest 
commandment  of  all.  Charity  is  the  law  of  God."  She 
agreed  with  this  voice;  still  she  hesitated;  but  after  a 
moment's  delay  she  glanced  quickly,  furtively,  up  and 
down  the  street,  and  then  started  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  Cour  des  Chats,  walking  as  fast  as  she  dared,  and 
quickening  her  pace  to  a  I'un  when  she  turned  into  the 
dirty  laneway  that  led  into  it.  Antoine  was  sitting  as 
she  had  left  him,  only  smoking  a  pipe.  His  mother  had 
gone  out  to  the  lavoir ;  the  idiot  child,  lulled  to  rest  by 
Narka's  song,  was  still  fast  asleep. 

Marguerite  closed  the  door,  and  then,  dropping  her 
voice,  "Antoine,"  she  said,  "the  police  are  in  jjursuit 
of  you.  The  Commissary  was  on  his  way  here  when 
he  met  with  an  accident;  he  is  now  at  the  House,  rest- 


JSfarka.  267 

ing,  and  I  am  going  to  tlie  Prefecture  with  tins  letter 
from  him  desiring  some  one  to  be  sent  to  arrest  you." 

Without  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of  her  information, 
she  turned  quickly  away,  alid  closed  the  door  after  her. 

An  hour  later  two  police-officers  drove  up  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  Cour  des  Chats,  and  crossed  over  to  the 
house  where  Antoine  was  lodging.  Tliey  went  up  and 
knocked  at  the  door,  guided  by  the  instructions  con- 
tained in  the  Commissary's  letter.  Some  one  said, 
"Come  in."  But  on  opening  the  door  they  found,  in- 
stead of  Antoine  Drex,  Soeur  Marguerite,  knitting  by 
the  window. 

"Pardon,  ma  scBur,"  said  one  of  the  agents,  taking 
off  his  hat ;  "  we  are  looking  for  Antoine  Drex.  We 
have  come  to  arrest  him." 

Marguerite's  heart  was  beating  like  a  hammer  on  an 
anvil,  but  she  looked  at  him,  and  said,  composedly, 
"  You  had  better  go  to  the  House  and  tell  M.  le  Com- 
missaire  that  you  found  me  here  in  place  of  Antoine 
Drex." 

The  two  police-officers  looked  at  her  as  if  they  doubt- 
ed her  sanity.  Presently  they  began  to  understand. 
They  were  young,  they  were  brave,  they  had  hearts  of 
men. 

"Ma  soeur,  I  have  the  honor  to  salute  you,"  said  one 
of  them. 

They  both  bowed  and  walked  out  of  the  room,  and 
she  heard  the  sound  of  smothered  laughter  on  the 
stairs. 

But  there  remained  now  the  Commissary  to  face. 
Marguerite  knew  there  would  be  no  sympathetic  laugh- 
ter there.  The  Commissary,  indeed,  flew  into  a  great 
rage  when  he  heard  the  trick  that  had  been  played  him, 
and  sent  for  the  Superior,  and  whipped  Marguerite  on 


268  Narha. 

her  unoffending  back;  lie  threatened  to  denounce  the 
community  as  accomplices  of  all  the  rebels  and  rascals 
of  the  district,  to  have  the  House  shut  up,  etc.,  etc. 

Marguerite  meantime  had  followed  the  agents  to  the 
House,  and  walked  bravely  in  to  receive  her  reward. 
She  was  very  frightened,  but  she  did  not  show  it,  and 
this  assumption  of  coolness  made  matters  worse. 

"So,  ma  soeur,  this  is  how  you  respect  the  law!" 
cried  the  angry  Commissary;  "before  you  went  to 
the  Prefecture  you, gave  that  scoundrel  a  hint  to  ske- 
daddle." 

"Monsieur  le  Commissaire,  I  am  incapable  of  any- 
thing so  mean,"  replied  Marguerite;  "I  told  him  plain- 
ly that  I  was  going  to  the  Prefecture  with  a  message 
from  you  for  his  arrest." 

"And  you  are  not  ashamed  of  helping  a  blackguard 
like  that  to  evade  the  law  ?" 

' '  Antoine  Drex  is  not  a  blackguard.  Monsieur  le 
Commissaire.  He  is  an  honest  man ;  he  has  been  very 
unhappy;  he  was  cruelly  and  unjustly  treated,  and  he 
is  exaspei'ated.  He  was  falsely  accused  of  murdering 
his  drunken  wife,  and  kept  ten  months  in  prison  with 
thieves  and  homicides  before  he  was  put  on  his  trial 
and  acquitted.  He  came  out  of  prison  with  his  health 
broken  and  his  heart  maddened,  and  he  has  never  got 
back  into  his  right  heart  since.  The  injustice  and  cru- 
elty of  the  law  turned  him  into  a  rebel.  And  so  it 
would  have  done  you  or  me,  M.  le  Commissaire." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  the  Commissary,  "I  will 
report  you  to  the  Minister  as  a  rebel  more  dangerous 
than  a  score  of  Antoine  Drexes."  He  was  furious;  but 
as  he  vented  his  fury  something  in  her  young  face, 
an  expression  at  once  timid  and  dauntless,  reproachful 
and  beseeching,  went  to  his  heart.     He  turned  away 


Narha.  269 

with  an  angry  grunt,  and  remained  silent,  while  Mar- 
guerite picked  up  and  replaced  at  his  back  the  pillow 
that,  in  his  agitation,  he  had  sent  rolling  to  the  floor. 

A  cab  was  now  waiting  to  take  him  and  his  colleague 
away.  Before  he  left  he  spoke  civilly  to  Soeur  Jeanne, 
and  told  her  to  look  after  Sceur  Marguerite,  and  see 
that  she  played  no  tricks  with  the  law  in  future,  for  she 
might  fall  next  time  on  some  one  who  would  be  less 
ready  to  overlook  her  misdemeanors  than  he  was. 

Soeur  Jeanne  scolded  Marguerite ;  but  the  community 
had  a  merry  time  of  it  at  recreation  that  eveiiing,  nor 
were  they  to  be  checked  in  their  fun  over  the  Commis- 
sary's misadventure  and  the  sorry  figure  he  made  in 
his  official  discomfiture  by  Sceur  Jeanne's  attempt  to 
frown  and  look  aggrieved. 

Narka  had  heard  nothing  of  the  event,  not  having  left 
home  since  she  had  parted  from.  Marguerite.  At  ten 
o'clock  that  night  she  was  a  little  startled  by  some  one 
knocking  at  her  door.  She  supposed  it  was  the  con- 
cierge with  a  letter;  but  before  oj)ening  she  asked  who 
was  there. 

A  voice  that  she  did  not  recognize  answered,  "A 
friend  of  Soeur  Marguerite." 

Narka,  drew  back  the  bolt.  She  did  not  know  what 
fear  was,  but  she  was  conscious  of  an  unpleasant  sensa- 
tion when  she  beheld  a  huge  man,  with  his  head  and 
shoulders  concealed  by  a  shawl,  step  quickly  in  and  close 
the  door  behind  him.  He  threw  back  the  shawl,  and 
Narka  recognized  Antoine  Drex.  He  told  her  what  had 
happened,  and  how  he  had  been  hiding  in  a  wood-yard 
all  the  afternoon  and  evening,  and  now  implored  her  to 
shelter  him  till  morning  and  give  him  some  food.  She 
fetched  him  bread  and  wine  and  some  cold  meat,  and  he 
rolled  an  arm-chair  into  the  little  kitchen,  which  was  the 


270  Narka. 

only  addition  to  the  salon  bedroom  in  her  apartment. 
But  Antoine  declared  he  was  lodged  like  a  prefet. 

Narka  was  glad  to  harbor  a  hunted  fellow-creature, 
to  give  sanctuary  to  a  victim  of  that  long-armed  and 
cruel  tyrant,  the  law.  Very  likely  Antoine  was  deep- 
dyed  in  plots  against  the  government;  but  Narka  was 
not  the  one  to  think  worse  of  any  man  for  that.  Every 
political  criminal  was  dear  to  her  for  Basil's  sake. 
Nevertheless,  though  she  was  glad  to  open  her  door  to 
Drex,  she  felt  that  in  doing  so  she  was  incurring  a 
great  personal  risk,  and  if  Antoine  rested  easily,  she  did 
not.  All  night  long  she  lay  awake,  listening  to  every 
sound ;  a  dog  that  barked,  a  cart  that  rumbled,  made  her 
start.  She  was  up  before  Antoine  gave  signs  of  stirring. 
Then  she  prepared  some  food  for  him,  and,  with  his 
shawl  drawn  round  him,  he  stole  out  in  the  early  morn, 
and  went  down  to  the  House  just  as  the  gate  was  opened. 

Marguerite  was  horrified  when  she  heard  where  he 
had  passed  the  night.  But  Antoine  assured  her  that  no 
harm  would  come  to  Narka ;  no  one  had  seen  him  com- 
ing or  going.  The  street  had  been  quite  deserted  both 
at  night  and  in  the  morning. 


Narka.  271 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Narka  never  gave  a  thought  to  the  possible  con- 
sequences to  herself,  from  the  moment  she  saw  Antoine 
Drex  safe  out  of  her  house;  but  the  event  had  excited 
her  extraordinai'ily.  She  forgot  that  his  coming  to  her 
for  shelter  was  the  natural  enough  result  of  her  visit  to 
him  with  Marguerite  in  the  morning,  and  she  magnified 
the  incident  into  a  portent.  She  must  be  destined  to 
play  some  part  in  this  great  revolutionary  drama  that 
was  being  enacted  all  over  Europe,  or  else  why  did 
these  chances  pursue  her  ?  Some  event  was  at  hand,  she 
said  to  herself,  some  great  event  in  which  a  role  was 
surely  reserved  to  her  by  fate  or  by  Providence. 

"Do  you  believe  in  presentiments  ?"  she  said  to  Mar- 
guerite, when  they  met  that  afternoon. 

"Certainly !"  was  the  emphatic  rejoinder;  "  I  believe 
them  to  be  a  sign  of  indigestion."  Marguerite  knew 
that  Narka  was  morbidly  fanciful  at  all  times,  and  she 
made  a  point  of  snubbing  her  fancies.  Just  now  she 
seemed  exaltee  and  overwrought. 

Nothing  occurred  during  the  day  to  justify  Narka's 
presentiments,  but  at  about  ten  o'clock  that  night  she 
was  again  startled  by  a  visitor.  This  time  it  was  a  ring, 
a  very  light  ring,  but  to  her  imagination,  on  the  watch 
for  signs  and  portents,  it  sounded  preternaturally  loud 
in  the  stillness.  Could  it  be  Antoine  come  back?  Mar- 
guerite had  said  they  would  shelter  him  at  the  House 
until  he  could  get  away  to  Calvados,  his  native  place. 
Narka  went  to  the  door  and  asked  who  was  there. 


272  Narka. 

A  voice  answered  in  Russian,  "  It  is  I,  Narka." 

Her  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  a  low  cry  rose  to  her  lips, 
the  bolt  flew  back — she  never  knew  how — and  then  she 
was  in  Basil  Zorokoff' s  arms.  For  one  long  moment  life 
seemed  over;  she  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  the  wild 
rapture  of  possessing  him;  his  strong  arms  were  clasp- 
ing her,  his  cheek  was  pressed  against  hers.  Was  it 
some  sweet  madness,  or  was  she  in  heaven  ? 

"Are  we  alone?"  he  whispered,  raising  his  head  and 
glancing  round  the  dimly  lighted  room,  while  he  relax- 
ed liis  hold  of  her. 

' '  Yes,  quite  alone.  Oh,  Basil,  is  it  you,  or  am  I  dream- 
ing ?" 

She  trembled  and  clung  to  him  as  if  she  was  afraid 
he  would  escape  if  she  let  liim  go.  He  drew  her  to  the 
little  couch,  and  they  sat  down  together. 

"1  frightened  you,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  I  ought  to 
have  given  you  warning,  and  not  come  down  on  you 
like  a  thunder-bolt ;  but  there  was  no  time,  unless  I  tele- 
graphed on  the  road,  and  that  would  have  been  a  risk." 

"I  am  not  a  bit  frightened,  only  beside  myself  with 
joy.  Oh,  Basil !  Basil !  my  love !  my  love !"  She  look- 
ed up  into  his  face,  sobbing  for  happiness. 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  She  could  see 
that  he  was  aged;  but  he  was  grander  and  handsomer 
than  ever. 

"Where  have  you  come  fi*om  ?"  she  said;  "have 
you  escaped,  or  did  the  Prince  consent  to  your  coming 
away  ?" 

"  Consent  ?"  Basil  threw  back  his  head  with  the  ges- 
ture she  remembered  so  well.  "  I  escaped  in  disguise  by 
the  same  train  that  took  him  to  Berlin  in  attendance 
on  the  Emperor,  who  is  gone  to  visit  his  brother  Kaiser." 

' '  Then  he  does  not  know  that  you  have  escaped  ?" 


Narha.  273 

"He  knows  it  by  this  time,  and  he  is  on  his  knees, 
tearing  his  hair,  and  swearing-  b}^  St.  Nicholas  that  Basil 
Zorokoff  is  the  greatest  wretch  under  heaven.  Oh !  it 
is  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  loyal  subject,  and  hate  one's  own 
flesh  and  blood  for  love  of  the  Emperor," 

"When  did  you  get  here  ?"  asked  Narka. 

"  An  hour  ago.     I  have  come  on  here  from  the  ti^ain." 

"Then  you  have  not  seen  Sibyl ?  You  did  not  know 
she  is  in  town  ?" 

" I  did  know  it;  but  I  came  straight  to  you." 

"My  own,  my  own — "  She  locked  her  arms  round 
his  throat,  and  let  her  head  drop  on  his  breast.  "You 
came  first  to  me !" 

"  Of  course  I  came  first  to  you.  Let  me  look  at  you." 
He  put  his  hand  under  her  chin,  and  held  up  her  face  so 
that  the  light  from  the  shaded  lamp  fell  upon  it.  "  My 
poor  Narka,"  he  said,  gazing  at  her  with  great  tender- 
ness, and  then  kissing  her,  "you  are  grown  thinner, 
but  you  are  as  beautiful  as  ever.  And  in  spite  of  all 
you  have  gone  through — the  prison — "  He  felt  her 
shudder  in  his  arms,  and  she  nestled  closer  to  him, 

"Don't  let  us  talk  of  that,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice; 
"it  is  all  past,  and  we  are  together.  I  want  to  hear 
about  you.  Tell  me  everything;  tell  me  all  that  has 
happened  since  we  parted.  Remember  how  little  I  know 
— only  hints  from  Sibyl  in  her  letters  first,  and  since 
then  stray  news  of  you  through  Ivan  GorflP,  Tell  me 
the  story  yourself  now." 

And  Basil,  with  his  arm  round  her,  and  her  hands 
locked  about  his  neck,  told  it  rapidly,  passing  lightly 
over  all  that  was  too  painful  and  humiliating,  so  as  not 
to  lacerate  her  loving  heart,  but  enlarging  complacently 
on  the  work  he  had  done,  the  results  he  had  achieved, 
the  brilliant  hopes  he  cherished,     Narka  saw  with  pride 

18 


274  Narka. 

that  he  had  ripened  greatly  during  the  interval  of  their 
separation;  his  mind  had  gained  in  shrewdness  and 
insight,  his  faculties  had  evidently  grown  in  power  of 
concentration;  she  was  amazed  at  the  vigor  and  quick- 
ness with  which  he  summed  up  the  situation,  weighed 
chances,  forecast  probabilities,  and  arrived  at  practical 
conclusions.  It  was  clear  that  he  had  thrown  his  whole 
soul  and  his  whole  energies  into  the  service  of  patriotism. 
He  looked  a  patriot  and  a  hero  every  inch,  so  strong  and 
straight  and  bold  in  his  manly  beauty — a  lover  for  a 
queen  to  be  proud  of.  And  Narka  was  proud  of  him ; 
her  heart  swelled  with  pride  in  him,  she  admired  him 
more  than  she  had  ever  done,  and  she  loved  him  with 
her  whole  soul.  And  yet — she  was  conscious  of  a  dis- 
appointment somewhere.  It  was  noble  in  him  to  be 
absorbed  in  this  grand  impersonal  object,  to  have  cast 
away,  for  the  sake  of  serving  his  oppressed  fellow-coun- 
trymen, all  the  pleasures  that  his  youth  and  rank  might 
have  claimed ;  she  admired  and  applauded  the  nobleness 
that  this  choice  evinced,  and  yet  there  was  a  vague 
disappointment  somewhere.  Schenk's  cruel  words  re- 
curred to  her  with  a  sting  that  even  the  joy  of  Basil's 
presence  could  not  allay.  "He  does  not  love  you;  he 
only  loves  his  ambition.  If  he  marries  you,  it  will  be 
from  a  sense  of  honor."  Yet  Basil  was  her  affianced 
lover,  and  she  was  beautiful,  and  he  had  come  to  her  be- 
fore he  went  to  the  sister  whom  he  loved  so  dearly. 
How  could  she  doubt  but  that  he  loved  her  best  ?  If  only 
he  had  lingered  a  little  longer  on  the  joy  of  their  meet- 
ing, and  then  entered  eagerly  on  the  question  of  their 
approaching  marriage! 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  while  these  reflections 
sped  rapidly  through  Narka's  mind,  and  then  that  sub- 
tle electric  consciousness  which  flashes  thought  from 


Narka.  275 

one  soul  to  another  with  whom  it  is  in  close  sympathy 
touched  Basil. 

"  And  Sibyl  ?"  he  said;  "she  has  been  true  to  you  ?" 

"  In  what  sense  true  ?  Does  she  know  of  our  engage- 
ment ?" 

"I  took  for  granted  she  did." 

"  She  never  let  me  suspect  it  if  she  did.  And,  dear 
Basil,  I  am  afraid  she  will  I'esent  our  marriage  as  bitter- 
ly as  the  Prince." 

"  I  hope  not,  when  she  knows  the  whole  truth — when 
I  tell  her  how  dear  you  are  to  me,  and  how  much  I  owe 
you.  I  hope  to  win  her  consent  without  great  difficul- 
ty. She  will  be  so  glad  to  see  me,  it  will  be  easier  to 
pei'suade  her." 

Narka's  heart  sank  a  little.  Was  Sibyl's  consent, 
then,  essential  ? 

"You  see,"  Basil  went  on,  "we  are  still  in  my  fa- 
ther's power.  I  am  absolutely  penniless  if  he  does  not 
relent,  and  I  could  not  ask  you  to  marry  a  beggar.  I 
have  brought  trouble  enough  already  on  you,  God 
knows,  without  that." 

"Oh,  but  I  am  going  to  make  our  fortune,"  Narka 
said,  with  a  sudden  thrill  of  exultation.  And  she  told 
him  of  Zampa's  offer,  and  the  splendid  career  that  was 
ready  waiting  for  her. 

' '  And  I  am  to  live  in  idleness  while  you  work  ?" 
Basil  said,  with  a  laugh ;  and  he  caressed  her, 

"You  will  be  working  for  the  great  cause,  while  I 
work  for  bread.  Don't  you  love  me  well  enough  to  eat 
my  bread  ?"  She  drew  herself  up,  and  keeping  one 
hand  round  his  neck,  she  laid  the  other  upon  his  breast. 
"Say,  Basil,  do  you  love  me  well  enough  to  eat  my 
bread  ?" 

He  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  and  held  it  clasped. 


276  Narha. 

"The  husband  ought  to  work  for  the  wife,"  he  said, 
"not  the  wife  for  the  husband." 

' '  That  is  the  philosophy  of  pride  and  of  your  aristo- 
cratic traditions.  A  patriot  should  be  above  such  pre- 
judice. Marguerite  was  glad  when  she  heard  this 
chance  of  helping  you  was  in  store  for  me." 

"  Marguerite !  Ah !  how  is  she  ?"  There  was  a  tender 
cadence  in  his  voice  as  he  said  the  name ;  it  struck  cold 
on  Narka's  heart. 

"  She  is  very  well.     I  see  her  every  day." 

"  Does  she  seem  happy  ?" 

"She  is  perfectly  happy.     She  loves  her  vocation." 

"Ah !  That  vocation  is  a  wonderful  thing.  But  she 
was  an  angel  always — Marguerite." 

Nobody  knew  this  better  than  Narka,  yet  to  hear 
Basil  say  it,  and  pronounce  Marguerite's  name  in  that 
soft  undertone,  burned  her  like  the  sting  of  a  wasp. 

"Good  heavens!  is  that  midnight?"  he  exclaimed,  as 
the  little  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  the  hour.  "  How 
the  time  has  sped !  I  have  kept  you  up  so  late,  dearest. 
I  have  not  slept  myself  for  four  nights." 

He  made  a  movement  to  rise,  but  Narka  clung  and 
nestled  to  him. 

"Must  you  go  ?"  she  said,  rubbing  her  cheek  against 
his  coat  caressingly.  "Tell  me  about  Sibyl:  will  she 
be  very  angry  with  you  for  coming  to  me  first  ?" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  tell  her.  I  sha'n't  say  I  have  seen 
you." 

* '  Ah !  Yet  it  would  be  as  good  a  way  as  any  of  break- 
ing the  truth  to  her  ?" 

"I  could  not  begin  by  vexing  her  and  making  her 
jealous.  She  has  been  the  best  of  sisters  to  me  always. 
No  one  has  ever  loved  me  better  than  Sibyl,  except  you, 
my  Narka." 


Narka.  211 

The  words  were  sweet,  and  tenderly  spoken ;  but  he 
might  have  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  Narka  thought,  for 
his  arm  was  round  her.  The  next  moment  she  mocked 
at  herself  for  this  ingenuity  of  self-torture.  He  had 
flown  to  her  first ;  he  had  proved  by  this  that  she  was  his 
chief,  his  first  object.  Why  could  not  she  rest  on  that 
and  be  content,  and  silence  these  promptings  of  sick 
jealousy?  It  was  natural  as  well  as  generous  and  un- 
selfish in  him  to  consider  Sibyl,  and  Narka  admired  the 
large-hearted  love  that  embi'aced  every  claim  so  faith- 
fully. 

"When  shall  I  see  you  again,  darling?"  she  said,  as 
he  gently  unwound  her  arms  and  stood  up. 

"I  will  come  as  early  as  I  can  to-morrow,"  he  replied, 
"unless  Sibyl  sends  for  you  to  come  and  meet  me  at 
her  house." 

"Oh  no,  not  that!"  said  Narka,  shrinking.  "I  could 
not  go  through  the  comedy  of  a  first  meeting  before 
Sibyl !" 

"That  is  true.  Then  I  will  come  here  and  fetch  you, 
and  we  will  go  back  to  her  together." 

She  went  out  with  him  to  the  dark  entry.  At  the 
outer  door  he  turned  once  more  and  folded  her  in  a 
close  embrace.  As  he  released  her  he  whispered, 
* '  When  you  see  Marguerite  you  may  tell  her  I  am  here. 
She  will  be  glad  to  know  that  I  am  safe." 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  her,"  Narka  replied.  It  was  kind 
and  natural  that  he  should  think  of  sending  a  message 
to  Marguerite. 


278  Narha. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Narka  was  up  before  the  earliest  bell.  When  she 
looked  round  her  it  seemed  wonderful  that  nothing 
was  changed  in  the  shabby  room ;  that  last  night's  vi- 
sion had  not  left  some  visible  trail  of  light  or  beauty 
behind  it. 

"  My  love !  my  love !  did  I  dream  that  you  were  here, 
that  you  held  me  in  your  arms  and  kissed  me  ?  My 
own !  my  own !" 

She  struck  her  hands  together,  and  laughed  out  loud 
for  joy.  The  little  morning  duties  were  quickly  per- 
formed, the  frugal  meal  made  ready  and  partaken  of; 
then  she  dressed  hei-self  with  care,  inspired  by  the 
coquetry  of  love,  and  made  the  room  as  pretty  as  she 
could,  ai'ranging  the  flowers  she  had  bought  of  a  poor 
woman  at  the  door,  placing  the  books  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage on  the  table,  moving  and  changing  everything, 
as  if  the  magic  of  love's  touch  must  improve  the  homely 
furniture.  Then  she  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  began 
to  warble  and  trill  with  the  full-throated  rapture  of  a 
thrush  in  spring.  She  fancied  Basil  listening  to  her; 
she  fancied  herself  bringing  down  La  Scala  in  thunders 
of  applause,  and  gathering  up  gold  in  bushels  and  pour- 
ing it  out  at  his  feet ;  she  saw  herseK  ministei'ing  to  his 
wants,  making  his  home  bright  and  beautiful,  and  set- 
ting him  free  to  work  with  a  liberated  mind  in  the  great 
cause  he  had  espoused.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  her 
dreams,  she  remembered  that  her  music  might  drown 
the  sound  of  his  ring,  and  she  came  away  from  the 


Narha.  279 

piano  and  moved  about,  changing  tlie  cliairs  and  the 
books  again,  and  smiling  at  everything,  and  humming 
for  very  inability  to  clieck  the  joy  that  was  overflowing 
in  her.  At  last  the  bell  sounded.  She  flew  to  the 
door.  But  it  was  not  Basil ;  it  was  Madame  Blaquette. 
The  landlady  put  her  finger  to  her  lips,  glided  quickly 
in,  closed  the  door,  and  then,  dropping  her  voice  to  a 
guilty  whisper,  "Dear  young  lady,"  she  said,  "can  I 
speak  in  the  strictest  privacy  ?" 

"Certainly,  Madame  Blaquette,"  replied  Narka,  in  a 
high,  cheerful  tone;  she  was  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  the 
landlady's  harmless  little  fancies. 

"I  have  come  to  warn  you  of  a  great  peril,"  whisper- 
ed Madame  Blaquette,  squeezing  Narka's  arm:  "the 
police  have  got  notice  that  you  have  political  papers 
here,  and  they  are  coming  up  to  search  your  place. 
Burn  or  hide  whatever  you  have ;  but  be  quick ;  there  is 
no  time  to  lose!" 

Narka  could  hardly  trust  her  senses.  Was  this  a 
delusion  like  the  panic  about  the  sewing-machine? 
Still,  she  had  those  papers.  "  Who  told  you  the  police 
were  coming  here  ?"  she  asked,  in  sudden  alarm. 

"  Dr.  Schenk.  '  He  met  me  the  other  side  of  the  Place, 
and  sent  me  back  to  warn  you.  But  make  haste,  or  it 
will  be  too  late." 

Narka's  mistrust  vanished  at  the  mention  of  Schenk's 
name.  She  looked  round  her  like  a  trapped  creature 
seeking  for  some  way  of  escape.  There  was  none;  there 
was  no  fii'e  where  she  could  burn  the  papers;  there  was 
not  a  hole  or  corner  in  the  narrow  space  where  tliey 
would  be  safe  from  the  lynx  eyes  of  the  police  for  ten 
minutes. 

"  I  will  take  the  papers  and  run  down  to  the  Sisters," 
she  said. 


280  Narka. 

"Dear  young  lady,  the  police  will  meet  you.  They 
are  coming-  up  the  street." 

"  Then  I  am  lost!"  cried  Narka,  clasping  her  forehead 
with  both  hands.  There  was  a  sound  of  men's  footsteps 
in  the  entry.  "Come,"  she  said;  and  seizing  Madame 
Blaquette  by  the  wrist,  she  drew  her  over  to  the  alcove, 
dragged  a  box  from  under  the  bed,  unlocked  it,  and  took 
out  the  ivory  casket  which  contained  the  papers  and 
Basil's  articles,  and  thrusting  it  into  the  landlady's 
hands, "  There!  hide  it  under  your  shawl,  and  take  it 
down  to  Soeur  Margueinte  for  me."  There  was  a  ring 
at  the  door.  "  Oh, my  God!  there  they  are!"  she  cried, 
turning  white  to  the  lips. 

"There  is  a  back  way,  if  I  can  get  out  through  the 
kitchen  window,"  said  Madame  Blaquette.  "Bring  a 
chair." 

They  hurried  to  the  kitchen.  Narka  threw  open 
the  window,  let  down  a  chair,  helped  the  agitated  land- 
lady to  step  on  it,  and  then  drew  up  the  chair  and 
shut  the  window,  and  went  back  iiito  the  room.  The 
bell  rang  a  second  time.  Narka,  trembling  in  her  strong 
young  limbs  like  a  whipped  hound,  walked  to  the  door 
and  opened  it. 

"Oh,  Marguerite,  it  is  you!  Come  in  quick,"  she 
ci'ied,  breathlessly.  And  she  told  her  in  a  few  hurried 
words  what  had  just  happened. 

"And  she  is  gone  down  with  the  box  to  me?"  said 
Marguerite ;  ' '  then  I  must  hui'ry  home  and  be  thex*e  to 
meet  her." 

Narka  would  have  been  thankful  to  have  the  sup- 
port of  her  presence  when  the  police  came;  but  it  was 
all-important  to  get  the  casket  into  safe-keeping,  so  she 
did  not  detain  her.  Marguerite  was  not  surprised  on 
reaching  the  House  to  find  that  Madame  Blaquette  had 


Narha.  281 

not  yet  arrived:  the  back  way  made  a  gi'eat  round,  and 
the  old  lady  might  linger  to  make  sure  of  avoiding 
the  police.  The  dispensary  vpindow  commanded  the 
court;  Marguerite  went  in  there,  so  as  to  see  her  the 
moment  she  arrived.  But  ten  minutes  passed,  then 
twenty,  and  Madame  Blaquette  did  not  appear.  Could 
she  have  been  seen  escaping  from  the  window  and  fol- 
lowed and  arrested?  This  was  highly  improbable; 
still,  when  half  an  hour  passed.  Marguerite  grew  ner- 
vous. There  was  no  one  to  consult.  All  the  Sisters 
were  absent  on  their  rounds,  or  engaged  in  the  schools. 
Suddenly  the  sound  of  a  light  hammer  fell  on  her  ear. 
She  opened  a  door  off  the  dispensary;  it  was  a  closet 
into  which  they  had  smuggled  Antoine  Drex.  He  was 
cobbling  an  old  boot,  nailing  a  sole  to  it.  Antoine  was 
safe  as  a  tombstone,  and  cunning  as  a  rat;  he  knew 
the  police,  and  he  knew  every  turn  of  the  lanes  and 
courts  through  which  Madame  Blaquette  had  to  pass. 
Marguerite  told  him  what  had  happened. 

"Most  likely  she's  hiding  till  she  makes  sure  those 
vermine  are  out  of  the  way,"  said  Antoine.  "Keep 
your  eye  on  the  gate,  ma  soeur  ;  old  Blaque  will  tui-n 
up."  He  nodded,  and  went  on  with  his  job;  but  he 
knit  his  brow  with  a  scowl. 

"  Take  care  you  don't  stay  too  long  at  that,  Antoine," 
said  Marguerite;  "the  blood  might  go  to  your  head  and 
bring  on  congestion." 

"Oh!  I'm  all  right,  ma  soeur,"  he  replied,  nodding 
confidentially. 

Marguerite  felt  a  little  reassured.  She  went  back 
into  the  dispensary  and  kept  her  watch  on  the  gate ;  but 
when  an  hour  went  by,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  Ma- 
dame Blaquette,  she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  The  sus- 
pense was  intolerable.     She  resolved  to  go  back  to  Nar- 


282  Narha. 

ka  and  see  what  had  happened  there,  at  any  rate.  She 
opened  the  door  of  the  closet  to  tell  Antoine  she  was 
going,  but  to  her  surprise  the  place  was  empty.  Where 
and  how  had  he  gone  off  ?  She  remembered  there  was 
a  way  out  by  the  garden,  but  he  must  have  got  out  of 
the  window ;  and  why  on  earth  had  he  done  this  ?  He 
was  to  have  made  his  escape  that  evening,  travelling 
in  a  wine  wagon  till  he  got  to  Caen,  when  he  was  to  be 
rolled  off  the  truck,  and  to  make  his  way  on  foot  to 
St.  Aubin,  his  native  village.  It  seemed  to  Marguerite 
that  everybody  was  on  the  wrong  tack  to-day.  She 
walked  quickly  on  to  Narka's.  The  Place  was  quiet, 
just  as  she  had  left  it  an  hour  ago;  no  groups  about,  no 
sign  of  any  unusual  incident,  such  as  an  arrest,  having 
stirred  the  neighborhood.  This  was  reassuring;  still 
her  hand  shook  as  she  pulled  the  bell,  and  she  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  relief  when  Narka  appeared. 

"Well?" 

' '  There  has  been  nobody.  I  begin  to  think  Madame 
Blaquette  imagined  the  whole  thing." 

"  But  the  box  ?     What  has  she  done  with  it  ?" 

"The  box  ?     Hasn't  she  taken  it  to  you  ?" 

"No;  she  has  never  been  near  me." 

Narka  turned  deadly  pale.  A  horrible  suspicion 
flashed  through  both  their  minds.  "Oh,  my  God!  it 
was  a  trap,"  said  Narka;  "it  was  a  trap  set  for  Basil. 
They  saw  him  here  last  night." 

Marguerite  thought  she  had  gone  stark  mad.  The 
scared  expression  of  her  face  reminded  Narka  that  she 
had  not  told  her  about  Basil's  arrival. 

"  Oh,  darling!"  she  said,  "  we  have  not  had  a  moment 
to  breathe,  or  I  should  have  told  you  Basil  has  escaped ; 
he  is  here  in  Paris.  He  came  to  see  me  last  night;  he 
had  just  only  arrived  by  the  train,  and  I  was  expecting 


Karka.  283 

him  again  this  morning  when  that  dreadful  woman 
came." 

"  Basil  is  here!"  Marguerite  repeated,  in  amazement. 

"Yes;  he  came  late,  about  ten  o'clock,  and  staid  till 
midnight;  I  watched  him  across  the  Place;  there  was 
not  a  soul  about;  but  those  blood-hounds  must  have 
tracked  him!  Oh,  my  God!  has  he  fallen  into  their 
fangs  again?"     She  wrung  ber  hands  in  misery. 

They  stood  silent,  both  their  hearts  beating  with  terror. 

"Do  you  know  at  all  what  those  papers  contained?" 
Marguerite  asked,  under  her  breath. 

"  I  fancy  they  were  a  political  programme,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort,  drawn  up  by  a  man  who  is  dead  since, 
Ivan  Gorff  told  me.  But  tlien  there  were  those  articles 
in  Basil's  own  handwriting.     Oh!" 

Marguerite  did  not  know  what  articles  she  was  talk- 
ing about;  Narka  had  never  told  her  of  those  transla- 
tions, or  of  the  meeting. 

"  Narka,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  the  girl's  arm, 
"do  you  think  there  was  a  confession  in  them  ?  About 
Father  Christopher  ?" 

"I  don't  think  so;  but  I  don't  know.  Oh,  Margue- 
rite, what  is  to  be  done?" 

"  Where  is  Basil  staying  ?"  asked  Marguerite. 

"I  don't  know ;  I  never  tliought  of  asking  him.  But 
Sibyl  will  know ;  he  is  most  likely  with  her  now,  if — 
Oh,  my  God  !  I  feel  half  mad  !  Only  think :  he  has 
barely  escaped,  and  to  be  cauglit  again!"  She  put  her 
hand  to  her  forehead,  and  dropped  into  a  seat. 

"We  don't  know  yet  whether  he  is  caught,"  said 
Marguerite,  "or  even  likely  to  be  caught;  don't  let  us 
jump  at  the  wox'st  conclusion  in  a  minute.  The  whole 
thing  may  be  a  silly  scare  of  that  old  goose  Blaquette's 
invention," 


284  Karha. 

"But  she  said  Sclienk  sent  her  to  warn  me.  How 
could  she  have  known  I  had  papers  unless  he  or  some 
one  told  her  ?" 

There  was  no  denying  this. 

"  Well,  you  can't  sit  here  waiting  to  be  arrested,"  said 
Marguerite.  "Put  on  your  bonnet,  and  go  round  by 
the  back  way,  and  take  refuge  with  Madame  Di-ex. 
And  this  evening  you  can  steal  down  to  us." 

Narka  heaved  a  great  sigh,  but  she  did  not  move. 

"  Dear  Narka,  for  Basil's  sake  don't  lose  heart,"  Mar- 
guerite entreated.  "Get  up  and  go,  and  I  will  hurry 
off  to  Sibyl." 

"Oh,  Sibyl!  Sibyl!"  Narka  cried,  in  an  accent  of 
poignant  pain. 

"Go!"  Marguerite  persisted,  trying  to  make  her  rise. 
Narka  seemed  incapable  either  of  resisting  or  deciding. 
She  rose  passively,  and  let  Marguerite  help  on  her  bon- 
net and  cloak. 

"  Let  me  see  you  safe  out  by  the  window  before  I  go," 
said  Marguerite. 

But  Narka,  roused  at  last  to  some  realization  of  her 
position  and  of  the  necessity  of  the  moment,  said  that 
she  must  put  away  some  few  things  and  lock  her  draw- 
ers. This  was  reasonable  enough,  and  Marguerite,  see- 
ing that  she  had  recovered  her  presence  of  mind,  was 
satisfied  to  leave  her  behind  and  hurry  off  on  her  own 
mission.  They  stood  at  the  door  together.  Narka  took 
her  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her,  a  long,  loving  kiss. 

"God  bless  you,  Marguerite!  You  are  God's  provi- 
dence to  me  always." 

She  opened  the  door  to  let  her  out.  As  she  did  so,  two 
men  stood  outside.  One  was  the  Commissary  of  Police. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  Narka's  shoulder  and  said,  "I  ar- 
rest you  in  the  name  of  the  Emperor !" 


Narha.  285 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Sibyl  had  retuiuiecl  to  Paris  the  moment  the  riots 
were  over;  but  she  liad  not  ventured  near  the  disturbed 
quarters,  nor  had  slie  seen  Marguerite,  consequently 
when  the  latter  walked  into  her  boudoir,  half  an  hour 
after  Narka's  arrest,  Sibyl  welcomed  her  with  double 
delight. 

"You  haven't  met  him!"  she  exclaimed,  running  to 
embrace  her. 

"  Whom  ?"  said  Marguerite. 

"Basil ! — yes,  Basil !  He  has  only  just  left  me.  He 
is  gone  off  to  see  you  and  Narka.  He  walked  in  here 
this  morning,  and  nearly  killed  me  with  the  joy  of  the 
surprise.  You  look  as  if  you  thought  I  had  gone  crazy  ; 
but  it  is  perfectly  true." 

"I  am  only  too  glad  to  believe  it,"  replied  Margue- 
rite, with  disappointing  calmness.  "  I  am  glad  of  good 
news  from  any  direction." 

"Why, what  do  you  mean?  What  has  happened?" 
Sibyl  asked,  in  alarm. 

"Narka  is  in  great  trouble.     She  has  been  arrested." 

"Arrested?  Again?  Here?  Good  heavens !"  Sibyl 
sat  down. 

"Yes,"  said  Mai'guerite,  sitting  too ;  "  it  happened  half 
an  hour  ago.     I  was  there  when  the  police  came." 

"And  what  have  they  arrested  her  for?" 

Marguerite  was  embarrassed.  If  Basil  had  not  spoken 
of  his  engagement,  it  might  be  indiscreet  to  mention  the 
papers  that  had  been  seized.  "I  heard  nothing  except 
that  they  had  a  warrant  to  arrest  her,"  she  said.      But 


286  Narka. 

tlie  perplexity  in  her  miud  got  into  her  face,  and  Sibyl 
saw  it. 

"You  know  more  than  that,  Marguerite,"  she  said. 
"Has  Narka  been  associating  with  those  wicked  rioters 
up  at  La  Villette  ?" 

"A  man  who  was  wounded  and  pui*sued  by  the  police 
sought  refuge  with  her  one  night,  and  that  may  have 
been  discovered.  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?  How  are  we 
to  help  her?  You  must  know  hosts  of  people  who  have 
influence.  There  is  Prince  Krinsky;  you  must  go  to 
him." 

"But  he  is  the  Russian  Ambassador!" 

"Well,  and  is  not  that  a  reason  ?  What  are  ambassa- 
dors for  but  to  help  their  countrymen  when  the^'^  get  into 
trouble  ?" 

"That  depends  upon  what  the  trouble  is.  It  is  not 
likely  our  Ambassador  would  feel  it  his  duty  to  help 
any  Russian  for  conspiring  against  our  Emperor." 

"Why  should  you  at  once  conclude  that  she  has  been 
conspiring  against  your  Emperor?  My  belief  is,  the 
whole  affair  is  either  a  gross  mistake  or  some  cruel  trick, 
and  if  you  won't  help  her,  I  will  ask  Gaston  to  do  it." 

"As  if  I  did  not  care  a  great  deal  more  than  Gaston 
about  Narka!"  retorted  Sibyl.  "  The  fact  is,  I  suspect  I 
know  moi'e  about  this  arrest  than  you  do.  We  were 
warned  months  ago  that  Narka  was  associating  with  dis- 
reputable people  who  would  get  her  into  trouble.  That 
Dr.  Scheuk  that  she  had  attending  her  bears  a  very  com- 
promising character.     How  came  she  to  know  him  ?" 

"Through  Ivan  Gorff.  Ivan  brought  him  to  her 
when  she  fell  ill.     That  was  not  her  fault." 

"It  was  her  misfortune,  anyhow.  It  obliged  me  to 
be  very  circumspect  in  my  intei'course  with  her.  It 
would  not  have  done  for  me  to  become  identified  with 


Narka.  287 

a  person  who  associated  with  bad  characters.  My  house 
is  a  centre  of  Russian  society  in  Paris,  and  though  I  am 
now  a  French  woman,  it  might  hav'e  injured  my  father 
and  Basil  if  I  had  paraded  my  friendship  with  a  Russian 
who  was  on  intimate  terms  with  conspirators." 

And  so  this  was  the  mot  cle  Venigme,  the  secret  of 
the  cold  aloofness  which  had  wounded  Narka  so  deeply. 

"I  don't  believe  Narka  has  been  associating  with  con- 
spirators," said  Marguerite.  "You  need  not  have  been 
afraid  of  her  compromising  you."  Then,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  ' '  What  would  they  do  to  her  if  she  were 
accused  of  anything  of  that  sort  ?"  she  asked. 

' '  If  she  has  mixed  herself  up  in  any  treason  against 
the  Emperor  of  France,  the  French  law  would  deal  with 
her." 

"But  if  it  was  against  the  Emperor  of  Russia?" 

"In  that  case  they  would  send  her  to  Russia  to  be 
tried." 

"Oh!" 

If  Sibyl's  answer  had  been,  "They  will  flog  her  to 
death,"  the  interjection  could  not  have  expressed  more 
horror.  Marguerite's  look  and  tone  seemed  to  hold  a 
terrible  revelation. 

"  Did  Narka  ever  tell  you  about  what  happened  to  her 
in  the  prison  ?"  Sibyl  asked,  in  an  altered  manner. 

"She  let  me  guess.  Oh,  Sibyl!"  said  Marguerite, 
clasping  her  hands,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  "how 
awful  if  she  were  to  go  through  that  again  !" 

Sibyl  changed  color,  and  stood  up,  and  moved  restless- 
ly about  the  room.  Then,  as  if  conquered  by  some 
motive  which  boi'e  down  all  opposition,  "I  will  go  to 
Prince  Krinsky,"  she  said. 

Marguerit-e  burst  into  tears,  and  kissed  her,  and  hur- 
ried away. 


288  N'arka. 

Sibyl  ordered  the  carriage  and  went  to  dress.  Just 
as  she  was  ready  to  go  down-stairs,  Basil  came  back  with 
M.  de  Beaucrillon.     They  wex'e  both  in  high  spirits. 

"You  have  not  heard?"  said  Sibyl.  "Narka  is 
arrested." 

Basil  uttered  a  violent  expletive  in  Russian,  and  turn- 
ed pale. 

"Ai'rested!  What  for?"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon,. 
scarcely  less  moved. 

"  Marguerite,  who  told  me  about  it — she  has  only  just 
gone — says  she  knows  nothing  but  the  fact  of  the  arrest. 
She  was  with  Narka  when  the  police  came  and  carried 
her  away." 

"  I  must  go  to  her  at  once,"  said  Basil,  picking  up  his 
hat,  that  he  had  dropped  in  his  excitement,  and  he  was 
leaving  the  room.  ' '  I  must  go  to  the  prison  and  pay 
my  way  in  to  her.     Where  is  the  prison  ?" 

"My  dear  Basil,  you  are  the  last  person  who  ought 
to  go  near  her,"  protested  Sibyl — "you  who  are  so  com- 
promised yourself." 

"Sibyl  is  right,"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon.  "You 
would  only  compromise  her  still  more.  But  what  in 
Heaven's  name  has  Narka  been  doing  to  get  into  this 
new  trouble  ?" 

Basil  took  a  turn  in  the  room,  and  then  suddenly  com- 
ing up  to  Sibyl,  he  said,  "The  time  has  come  for  me  to 
speak  out.     I  am  engaged  to  Narka." 

"TF/ia^  V  Sibyl  cried,  almost  with  a  slmek. 

^'DiableP^  exclaimed  M.  de  Beaucrillon. 

Then  followed  a  pause  of  stupefied  amazement  from 
both. 

"Yes,"  said  Basil,  "the  night  I  left  Yrakow  I  asked 
her  to  be  my  wife.  I  cannot  see  why  the  news  should 
strike  you  both  dumb  with  horror,  as  if  it  were  a  crime. 


JVarka.  289 

Narka  is  good  and  gifted  and  beautiful,  and  you,  Sibyl, 
iiave  looked  on  her  as  a  sister  all  your  life." 

But  Sibyl  could  not  answer  liim;  the  power  of  speech 
seemed  to  have  left  her.  She  was  clutching  the  mantel, 
her  face  was  blanched,  the  color  had  faded  from  her 
eyes,  and  they  stared  fixedly  at  Basil  with  an  expression 
that  was  indefinable. 

""  Mon  cJier  arni,'"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  "I  must 
own  I  don't  understand  your  wonder  at  the  effect  of  your 
announcement  on  my  wife.  It  is  not  such  a  surprise 
to  me.  I  always  thought  Narka's  position  in  the  family 
was  an  anomalous  one,  and  likely  to  end  in  some  ca- 
tas — culmination  of  this  sort.  I  said  so  to  Sibyl  long 
ago,  but  she  ridiculed  the  idea  and  laughed  at  me." 

"I  don't  see  why  the  culmination  should  have  excited 
Sibyl's  ridicule,"  Basil  retorted,  looking  angrily  at  her. 

"One  has  not  far  to  look  for  the  I'eason,  neverthe- 
less," said  Gaston.  ' '  Mademoiselle  Narka  is  undoubted- 
ly all  that  you  say,  as  gifted  as  she  is  good ;  but  she  is 
the  daughter  of  a  Jewish  trader,  whereas  you  are — " 

"Her  affianced  husband,"  interrupted  Basil. 

"Ah !  just  so.  Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said, 
and  it  only  remains  for  me  to  congratulate  you."  And 
M.  de  Beaucrillon  bowed  stiffly. 

"Oh,  Basil!  Basil!"  Sibyl  cried,  and  she  clasped  her 
hands  and  burst  into  tears,  and  flung  herself  sobbing  on 
a  couch. 

"  So  much  for  a  woman's  friendship!"  said  Basil,  bit- 
terly; and  he  looked  at  his  brother-in-law  as  if  expect- 
ing him  to  acquiesce  in  the  contemptuous  sentiment. 
But  M.  de  Beaucrillon  walked  over  and  leaned  against 
the  chimney-piece,  looking  down  at  his  sobbing  wife 
with  an  air  of  unconcealed  annoyance. 

"Look  here,  Sibyl,"  said  Basil,  after  a  momentary 
13 


290  Narha. 

hesitation,  "  and  you  too,  de  Beaucrillon,  listen  to  what 
I  have  to  say,  and  give  me  a  fair  hearing.  When  I 
came  back  that  evening  with  Father  Christopher's  par- 
don there  was  a  warrant  signed  for  my  arrest.  The 
Stanovoi  gave  me  notice,  and  oifered  to  let  me  escape 
before  the  warrant  reached  him  if  I  paid  him  fifty  thou- 
sand roubles.  I  could  not  by  any  possibility  lay  my 
hands  on  the  sum  within  the  time.  I  had  three  hours 
to  find  it.  I  knew  you  had  not  half  the  amount  with 
you,  and  there  was  no  one  else  to  call  upon.  I  was 
prepared  to  be  arrested  by  ten  o'clock  that  night.  I 
told  Narka  about  the  warrant,  and  by  mere  chance  I 
mentioned  the  offer  made  me  by  the  Stanovoi.  She 
gave  me  the  money,  and  I  escaped." 

"  Narka!"  they  both  exclaimed,  aghast. 

' '  Narka  gave  you  jifty  thousand  roubles  .'"  repeated 
M.  de  Beaucrillon,  in  a  tone  of  dense  incredulity. 

"Narka,"  replied  Basil.  "It  so  happened  that  that 
very  day  she  learned  that  a  legacy  of  precisely  fifty 
thousand  roubles  had  been  paid  into  the  hands  of  PeiTOw 
for  her  by  the  executor  of  an  uncle  of  Tante  Nathalie. 
Narka  rode  in  to  X.,  got  the  money,  and  returned  just  in 
time.  The  Stanovoi,  who  had  had  me  closely  watched, 
was  lying  in  ambush  at  the  gate,  and  I  paid  him  the 
money.  Before  making  my  escape  I  asked  Narka  to  be 
my  wife." 

^^  Ma  foil  I  don't  see  how  you  could  have  helped 
it !"  exclaimed  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  with  generous  warmth ; 
"  no  man  of  honor  could  have  done  less." 

"I  don't  see  that  at  all,"  said  Sibyl,  whose  sobs  and 
tears  had  been  suddenly  checked  by  the  counter-current 
of  emotion.  "  I  can't  see  that  honor  made  it  necessary 
for  him  to  dishonor  his  name.  It  was  most  kind  and 
generous  of  Nai'ka;  but  any  friend  worthy  of  the  name 


JSFarka.  291 

would  have  done  as  much.  And  as  fax*  as  that  went,  I 
would  have  paid  the  debt,  had  I  known  of  it,  within  a 
month.  I  will  do  so  now,  and  twofold,  tenfold,  grate- 
fully and  willingly." 

"There  are  debts  that  cannot  be  paid,"  said  Basil, 
angry  and  hurt ;  "but  the  money  is  the  least  part  of  what 
I  owe  Narka."  He  pulled  at  his  mustache,  and  after 
a  moment's  wavering  and  debating,  "I  had  in  my  pos- 
session at  the  time,"  he  continued,  "documents  that 
were  then  of  great  importance,  and  of  the  most  compro- 
mising character ;  I  could  not  destroy  them,  and  I  dai'ed 
not  take  them  with  me.  I  asked  Narka  to  keep  them. 
I  knew  and  she  knew  that  they  would  bring  grievous 
trouble  on  any  one  with  whom  they  were  found ;  but  she 
accepted  the  trust  without  hesitating.  The  Stanovoi, 
who  knew  she  had  been  with  me  to  the  last,  and  who  no 
doubt  discovered  that  she  had  given  me  the  ransom,  de- 
nounced her  as  having  my  papers.  She  was  arrested, 
and  kept  six  months  in  prison.  God  and  herself  alone 
know  what  she  suffered  there ;  but  they  got  nothing  out 
of  her.  She  left  Kronstadt  without  having  betrayed  me 
by  a  word."  He  seemed  almost  overcome  for  a  moment. 
"  You  know  the  rest,"  he  went  on,  hurriedly.  "  Tante 
Nathalie  could  not  rally  from  the  shock.  Narka  came 
away  amongst  strangers,  first  in  one  place,  then  in 
another;  she  suffei*ed  every  sort  of  hardship,  and  it 
has  been  all  my  doing.  And  because  I  don't  throw  her 
over  like  a  heartless  scoundrel,  you  cry  out  that  I  am 
dishonoring  myself !" 

"Narka  is  a  noble  creature,"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon, 
with  genuine  feeling.  "No  man  worthy  of  the  name 
could  behave  otherwise  than  you  are  doing." 

Sibyl,  who  had  entirely  ceased  crying,  got  up  and 
went  over  to  Basil  and  kissed  him.     "Yes,  Narka  has 


292  JVarka. 

beliaved  nobly,"  she  said,  "  and  you  are  the  most  chival- 
rous of  men.  For  the  sake  of  all  she  has  done  and  suf- 
fered, we  will  receive  her  as  your  wife." 

The  concession  was  probably  as  much  as  Basil  could 
have  expected  fi'om  Sibyl  under  any  circumstances ;  but 
he  took  it  coldly,  and  without  a  word  of  thanks  or  com- 
ment. 

"The question  now  is,"  said  M. de  Beaucrillon,  "what 
is  to  be  done  to  get  her  out  of  this  fresh  trouble.  You 
have  no  idea  what  has  led  to  it  ?" 

"  I  may  still  be  the  cause  of  it,"  Basil  replied,  remem- 
bering last  night's  visit,  and  the  possibility  of  its  having 
been  discovered.  "She  may  have  kept  those  papers;  it 
is  very  possible." 

"  Then  we  must  go  to  Prince  Krinsky  at  once,"  said 
Sibyl. 

"What  has  Krinsky  to  do  with  it?"  asked  Basil, 
sharply, 

"If  she  has  been  watched  by  our  police — and  nobody 
else  had  any  motive  in  watching  her — Prince  Krinsky 
will  know,  and  he  is  the  only  person  who  can  help." 

Basil  thought  it  very  unlikely  that  the  Prince  would 
help ;  the  name  of  Krinsky  had  been  as  the  seven  devils 
let  loose  on  him  all  these  months  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
the  name  of  Zorokoff  was  no  doubt  in  equally  bad  odor 
"with  the  Krinskys.  The  ambassador  was  not  likely  to 
extend  his  favor  to  any  offender  who  was  identified  with 
the  family  of  the  man  who  had  rejected  Princess  Marie. 

' '  Sibyl  is  right, "  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon.  ' '  Krinsky  is 
the  person  we  must  apply  to,  and  no  time  must  be  lost." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  Ivan  before  w^e  move  in  the 
matter,"  said  Basil,  in  evident  perplexity.  He  went  to 
the  window,  and  saw  that  the  brougham  was  waiting 
in  the  court;  then  pulled  out  his  watch.     "I  think  I 


Narka.  293 

could  catch  him  by  driving  there  now.  Yes,  I  will  try 
and  see  Ivan;  he  will  throw  some  light  on  the  affair 
that  will  guide  us.  Don't  go  to  the  Russian  embassy 
till  I  come  back,"  he  said  to  Sibyl;  and  snatching 
up  his  hat,  he  hurried  away,  and  in  a  minute  they  heard 
the  bi'ougham  driving  out  of  the  court. 

"  Well !"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  flinging  himself  into 
a  chair,  and  he  threw  up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  utter 
amazement;  "it  is  the  most  astounding  story  that  I 
ever  heard !" 

Sibyl  tore  off  her  bonnet  and  tossed  it  from  her,  and 
pulled  off  her  gloves  in  an  excited  manner;  she  seemed 
too  agitated  to  speak.  After  a  pause,  "To  think,"  she 
burst  out,  "that  Narka  should  have  been  all  this  time 
engaged  to  him  and  never  told  me !  The  base  hypocrisy 
of  it  is  incredible.  And  to  think  of  such  a  scene  going 
on  that  night  at  Yrakow  and  I  left  in  ignorance  of  it !'' 

"She  showed  extraordinary  self-control,  certainly," 
said  M.  de  Beaucrillon;  "very  few  women  could  go 
through  such  an  ordeal  without  betraying  themselves. 
And  by  heavens  she  does  know  how  to  love  a  man!" 
he  added,  in  a  tone  of  admiration  that  had  a  ring  of  envy 
in  it. 

"Better  than  she  knows  how  to  love  a  woman,"  re- 
torted Sibyl.  "To  think  that  she  could  be  so  treachery 
ous!" 

^^  Quelle  hetiseT  and  M.  de  Beaucrillon  threw  back 
his  head  with  a  contemptuous  laugh. 

"  It  was  treacherous  of  her,"  repeated  Sibyl,  her  eyes 
glittering. 

' '  It  would  have  been  treacherous  to  Basil  if  she  had 
betrayed  his  secret.  Seigneur  Dieu,  quelle  etude  de 
mcBurs  moscovites .'"  M.  de  Beaucrillon  laughed  again, 
and  rose,  and  began  to  walk  about  the  room.      "  No,  ma 


294  Narha. 

cliere  amie,''''  he  went  on,  "such  a  romance  could  never 
be  acted  in  any  country  under  heaven  but  Russia.  Such 
a  series  of  exaggerations,  such  a  jumble  of  chivalry  and 
cowardice,  of  generosity  and  selfishness !  It  passes  hu- 
man understanding." 

"You  mean  French  understanding.  You  ax'e  so 
chauvin,  Gaston ;  you  never  can  see  things  from  any 
but  the  French  point  of  view." 

"Very  likely,  ma  chere  amie;  just  as  you  can  only 
see  them  from  the  Russian  point  of  vie^.  A  French- 
man in  Basil's  place  would,  ten  to  one,  have  fallen  in 
love  with  Narka,  as  a  boy ;  would  perhaps — well,  he  cer- 
tainly never  would,  as  a  man,  have  elected  to  marry 
her." 

"  Why,  you  said  just  now  that  no  man  in  Basil's  place 
could  have  done  otherwise." 

"Precisely — in  Basil's  place;  but  a  Frenchman  would 
never  have  put  himself  in  Basil's  place;  but  having 
taken  her  money,  and  put  her  life  and  liberty  in  peril, 
and  brought  her  into  such  terrible  tribulation,  a  French- 
man would  not  have  gone  back  to  Russia  and  lived  in 
luxury  at  court,  and  left  the  woman  he  owed  all  that 
to  in  every  sort  of  hardship.  Basil  ought  not  to  have 
left  his  money  debt  unpaid  all  this  time,  at  any  rate. 
Why  did  he  not  tell  the  Prince  about  it  ?" 

"  My  father  ?"  cried  Sibyl.  "  Basil  knew  better  than 
to  do  that.     My  father  would  have  cursed  him." 

' '  Et  apres  f  We  are  not  in  the  days  of  the  patriarchs, 
and  curses  break  no  bones.  Ma  chere,  your  men  have 
something  to  be  desired ;  there  is  a  flaw  in  their  chivalry 
at  its  best.  But  your  women — by  Heaven,  they  are  a 
splendid  race!  Narka  is  a  grand  specimen  of  them, 
and  Basil  would  be  a  scoundrel  if  he  threw  her  over  for 
all  the  curses  of  all  the  papas  in  holy  Russia." 


Narha.  295 

Sibyl  could  not  wish  Basil  to  be  a  scouudrel,  but 
neither  could  she  face  the  other  alternative.  Surely 
there  must  be  some  way  out  of  the  difficulty;  surely 
Providence  would  rescue  the  pride  of  the  ZorokolFs  from 
this  shame,  would  save  the  holy  place  from  that  abom- 
ination of  abominations,  Jewish  blood!  She  sat  still, 
except  for  the  nervous  mechanical  action  of  twisting 
her  handkerchief  into  a  tight  rope,  unconscious  that  her 
fingers  wei'e  tearing  the  costly  rag  to  shreds.  The  gong 
sounded,  announcing  a  visitor. 

"I  hope  no  one  is  coming  up  here,"  she  said,  impa- 
tiently.     "  Ring  to  forbid  it." 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  rang  the  bell  which  sounded  the 
desired  jirohibition,  but  before  a  servant  could  appear. 
Marguerite  walked  into  the  boudoir.  They  both  greet- 
ed her  with  an  exclamation  of  relief. 

"  Well,  what  news  ? — have  you  seen  her  ?"  said  Sibyl. 

"No;  she  has  been  before  the  Petit  Parquet  all  the 
morning;  but  one  of  the  officials  told  me  that  she  is  to 
be  taken  from  the  depot  to-niglit  to  St.  Lazai'e.". 

"Ah!  then  there  is  a  true  case  against  her?"  said 
Gaston.      ' '  There  will  be  a  trial  ?" 

"Evidently.  But  I  shall  see  Narka  herself  to-mor- 
row." 

"Oh,  Marguerite,"  cried  Sibyl,  "you  don't  know  half 
the  trouble.  Basil  is  engaged  to  her!  he  is  going  to 
marry  her ! — NarTca .'" 

Marguerite  uttered  something  inarticulate,  and  blush- 
ed slowly. 

"Yes,  it  is  not  to  be  believed,"  protested  Sibyl,  mis- 
interpreting the  blush  and  the  exclamation.  "And 
fancy  her  never  breathing  a  word  of  it  to  any  of  us ! — 
to  me,  that  she  pretended  to  love  so !  It  is  enough  to 
make  one  loathe  the  whole  race  more  than  ever!" 


296  JSTarka. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned 
away  with  an  impatient  expletive. 

"Perhaps  Basil  forbade  her  to  tell,"  Marguerite 
pleaded. 

"Of  course  he  did,"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  facing 
round.  "You  talk  like  a  fool,  Sibyl.  And  what  differ- 
ence would  it  have  made  if  she  had  told  you  ?  Would 
that  have  reconciled  you  to  the  marriage  ?    Not  a  whit." 

"I  should  have  felt  that  she  had  behaved  loyally 
to  me." 

"Bah !  Her  first  loyalty  was  due  to  Basil.  And  she 
has  proved  that  right  nobly.  The  only  pity  is  she's  not 
a  Narichkin  or  a  Woronsoff . " 

"Yes,  that  is  just  the  pity.  But  she  is  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other ;  she  is  a  Jewess.  You  cannot  understand 
what  that  means  to  people  of  our  caste  in  Russia;  but 
Narka  does,  and  I  cannot  understand  how  her  own  pride 
did  not  protect  us.  I  wonder  she  did  not  shrink  from 
bringing  the  disgrace  of  her  Jewish  blood  into  our 
house." 

"What  rank  nonsense  you  are  talking!"  said  M.  de 
Beaucrillon,  all  his  chivalry  and  manliness  enlisted  on 
Narka's  side  by  this  savage  exaggei'ation  of  scorn. 
"  She  has  every  quality  that  can  ennoble  and  endear  a 
woman,  and  Basil  loves  her." 

"  Does  he  ?  He  had  not  the  tone  of  a  man  who  was 
in  love.  My  conviction  is,  he  asked  her  in  a  moment 
of  exuberant  feeling,  from  a  sense  of  honor,  and  that 
he  regrets  it  in  his  heart." 

' '  By-the-way,"  said  M.  de  Beaucrillon,  turning  to  Mar- 
guerite, "you  have  not  heard  the  story  yet."  And  he 
told  her  briefly  of  the  ransom,  the  flight,  the  papers  left 
with  Narka,  and  the  trouble  they  had  brought  upon  her. 

"Oh,  Sibyl,  is  it  any  wonder  that  Basil  loves  her?" 


JSTarka.  29*7 

Marguerite  pleaded.  "How  could  he  have  done  less 
than  make  her  an  offer  of  his  hand  ?" 

"Perhaps  not,"  replied  Sibyl;  "but  Narka  took  an 
unworthy  advantage  in  accepting  it.  She  knew  the 
offer  was  made  in  a  moment  of  extraordinary  excite- 
ment, under  almost  overpowering  pressure  of  motives; 
she  ought  to  have  said,  '  Wait  a  year,  and  then,  if  you 
are  of  the  same  mind,  ask  me  again.' " 

"I  wonder  how  many  men  would  have  been  of  the 
same  mind  at  the  end  of  a  year!"  said  Marguerite,  with 
a  toss  of  her  head. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon  looked  at  her  in  amused  surprise. 
"You  little  skeptic,  where  did  you  get  your  estimate 
of  us,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  I  dare  say  you  are  right 
enough,  though,"  he  added.  "All  the  same,  I'm  not 
sure  but  that  the  ficklest  among  us  would  prefer  the 
woman  who  took  him  at  his  word — the  woman  who 
loved  him  would  be  sure  to  do  that;  and  Narka  loves 
Basil,  and  no  mistake." 

"  Then,  if  she  loves  him,  she  must  do  him  good,"  said 
Marguerite.  "Oh,  Sibyl,  won't  you  remember  all  she 
has  suffered  for  Basil's  sake,  and  try  to  love  her  ?" 

"  I  have  got  first  to  try  to  forgive  her,"  Sibyl  replied, 
coldly.  She  looked  as  cold  and  hard  as  if  she  had  been 
turned  to  ice. 

Marguerite  had  been  prepared  for  a  great  deal,  but  the 
sight  of  this  frozen  hardness  under  that  soft,  smiling, 
sympathetic  exterior  shocked  her  inexpressibly. 

"What  is  there  to  be  done  ?"  she  said,  addressing  her 
brother.      "Prince  Krinsky  will  help,  will  he  not?" 

"We  don't  know  that  yet,"  replied  Gaston.  "If,  as 
we  fear — as  Basil  fears — the  trouble  comes  from  med- 
dling with  Russian  politics,  the  Russian  ambassador  may 
refuse  to  interfere." 


2&8  Narha. 

"  But  he  has  a  wife,  a  daughter  ?  Princess  Marie,  who 
is  so  young,  surely  she  will  be  kind  ?  Go  to  her,  Sibyl, 
and  tell  her  everytliing.  Tell  her  that  Basil  loves  Nar- 
ka,  and  is  engaged  to  be  married  to  her." 

Sibyl  gave  a  little  sardonic  laugh.  "That  would  not 
be  the  way  to  touch  her:  no  woman  cares  to  help  the 
rival  who  has  supplanted  her.  Marie  would  hate  Nar- 
ka;  in  her  place,  any  girl  would,  unless  she  were  an 
angel." 

"And  why  should  she  not  be  an  angel?  Nothing 
makes  angels  or  devils  of  people  like  believing  them  to 
be  such.  Go  to  Marie  as  if  you  believed  she  was  an  an- 
gel; tell  her  everything,  and  trust  to  her  pity  and  gen- 
erosity.    Dear  Sibyl,  do !" 

While  Marguerite  pleaded  and  entreated,  Sibyl  seem- 
ed to  be  rapidly  debating  the  question  in  her  own 
mind ;  she  was  looking  fixedly  out  of  the  window,  her 
features  agitated,  her  hands  nervously  moving  in  that 
unconscious,  mechanical  twisting  of  her  handkerchief. 
Suddenly  her  brow  cleared,  like  a  person  who  sees  a 
way  out  of  a  difficulty,  and  has  determined  to  follow  it. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  she  said ;  "that  is  the  best  thing 
to  do.  We  must  wait  till  Basil  comes  back,  as  we  prom- 
ised him,  and  if  he  has  no  reason  for  preventing  it,  I  will 
go  at  once  to  Marie  and  try  if  she  is  of  the  stuff  that 
angels  are  made  of." 

Marguerite  had  now  done  all  that  was  possible  for 
the  moment ;  so,  promising  to  let  them  know  when  she 
had  seen  Narka,  went  away. 

M.  de  Beaucrillon,  observant  of  the  courtesies  which 
French  gentlemen  never  fail  in  to  the  women  of  their 
family,  saw  her  down-stairs,  and  then  returned  to  the 
boudoir.  He  was  struck  immediately  by  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in   Sibyl.     The   strained,  angry, 


JSfarJca.  ^09 

perplexed  look  had  entirely  passed  away  from  her  coun- 
tenance, and  it  now  wore  a  resolute,  almost  a  radiant 
expi'ession.  Was  it  the  hope  of  saving  Narka  from  a 
horrible  fate  that  had  suddenly  flushed  her  pale  cheeks 
and  lighted  those  lamps  of  triumph  in  her  eyes? 
What  else  could  it  be  ?  And  yet,  for  the  first  time,  as 
lie  looked  at  his  wife,  M.  de  Beaucrillon  did  not 
think  Sibyl  beautiful. 


300  Narka. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Narka  was  alone  in  her  cell  at  St.  Lazare.  No  one 
had  been  to  see  her.  She  had  waited  and  watched  all 
the  day  long.  Every  echoing  step  on  the  stone  corridor 
made  her  pulses  quicken  with  hope:  it  might  be  Mar- 
guerite, or  Sibyl,  or  even  Basil.  But  the  day  dragged 
on  to  its  close,  the  bars  and  bolts  of  the  prison  were 
drawn,  and  no  one  came. 

Narka  had  not  slept  the  previous  night,  and  she  had 
hardly  tasted  food  since  her  arrest;  she  was  physically 
exhausted,  and  her  nerves  were  strained  and  excited  to 
the  verge  of  delirium.  When  the  night  closed  in  she 
was  in  the  state  of  one  prepared  to  see  visions.  For 
a  while  the  lamp  burning  outside  sent  a  tawny  light 
into  her  cell  through  the  window  above  the  door;  but 
this  was  put  out,  and  then  all  was  black  as  the  tomb, 
and  a  horror  of  gi'eat  darkness  fell  upon  her.  She  could 
not  say  how  long  it  lasted;  but  suddenly  the  external 
blackness  was  pierced  through  by  a  vivid  inward  illu- 
mination. Her  whole  life,  from  childhood  to  the  pre- 
sent hour,  passed  before  her,  with  its  sorrows,  its  blight- 
ed hopes,  its  pathetic  failures;  every  circumstance  be- 
came invested  with  a  high  prophetic  meaning,  every 
cruel  and  humiliating  event  was  instinct  with  a  su- 
preme significance,  every  incident  pointed  to  momentous 
issues.  Her  faith,  hitherto  a  sort  of  dreamy  mysticism, 
gradually  kindled  to  a  kind  of  frenzy,  that  she  mistook 
for  inspiration.  She  saw  the  divine  scheme  for  the  re- 
demption   of   humanity   unfolding  before   her   like   a 


NarJca.  301 

scroll,  and  she  read  her  own  part  distinctly  written 
there.  God,  avIio  had  created  and  redeemed  every  in- 
dividual softl,  could  not  overlook  tlie  very  least  of  His 
cred^tures ;  with  Him  there  was  neither  greater  nor  less- 
er; the  monai'ch  on  his  throne  and  the  moudjik  in  his 
hovel  were  of  equal  value  in  His  sight;  the  same  hand 
which  fashioned  the  eagle  and  bid  it  soar  and  fix  the 
mid-day  sun,  also  created  the  worm,  and  bade  it  crawl 
upon  the  earth,  and  both  were  His  creatures,  equally 
entitled  to  His  care.  It  was,  nevertheless,  in  the  order 
of  His  providence  that  amongst  men  there  should  be 
higher  and  lower;  that  some  should  play  a  grand  part 
in  life,  and  some  an  obscure  one ;  that  some  should  com- 
mand and  enjoy,  and  even  sin  with  impunity,  while 
others  were  condemned  to  suffer  for  the  sins  of  all. 
And  these  latter  were  His  chosen  partners  in  the  plan 
of  redemption.  They  w^ere  to  enter  into  glory  with 
Him  through  suffering,  and  become  like  unto  gods. 

As  the  symbolism  of  her  destiny  revealed  itself  to 
Narka,  her  heart  swelled  with  a  sense  of  vengeful 
triumph.  She  exulted  in  her  Christ-like  mission,  and 
in  spirit  trampled  under  foot  the  Pharisees  and  tyrants 
who  pei'secuted  her.  The  night  wore  on  in  this  frenzy 
of  pride  and  hallucination.  The  prison  clock  told  away 
the  hours.  The  dawn  broke,  but  in  the  cell  all  was  still 
dark.  Suddenly  a  gleam  of  light  crept  in  through  the 
window  above  the  door,  and  Nai'ka,  looking  up  as  if 
something  had  touched  her,  saw  the  white  figure  of  the 
crucifix,  alone  visible  in  the  encircling  blackness. 

"  Yes," she  said  within  herself,  "it  is  we  who  can  look 
down  from  our  gibbet  on  the  children  of  this  world,  the 
fools  who  feast  and  revel,  while  we  agonize  with  Christ 
in  His  passion !  To  us,  instead  of  ashes.  He  will  give 
a  crown  and  a  garment  of  glory  for  an  afflicted  spirit. 


302  Narha. 

Those  who  have  dwelt  in  the  tombs  shall  rejoice  and 
sing  canticles,  while  those  who  have  slept  in  palaces  on 
pillows  of  down  shall  howl  for  grief  and  Yend  their 
garments!" 

In  the  weird,  shadowy  dawnlight  her  thoughts  grew 
concrete,  and  took  tangible  form.  She  saw  a  long  pro- 
cession marching  past — victors  and  saints  who  had  bless- 
ed their  generation,  and  left  the  world  better  than  they 
found  it;  but  they  were  not  the  prosperous  ones  whose 
course  had  been  through  flowery  meads,  full  of  sunshine 
and  peace;  they  were  men  who  had  suffered,  who  had 
known  poverty,  humiliation,  and  defeat.  She  saw  that 
never  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  liad  a  nation's 
wrong  been  made  right,  or  a  people's  sorrow  consoled, 
by  the  rich  and  the  satisfied,  who  had  gone  through  life 
making  merry,  crowned  witji  flowers,  and  sung  to  and 
smiled  upon ;  these  conquests  had  been  achieved  by  pil- 
grims who  toiled  through  the  desert  in  hunger  and  thirst 
and  nakedness,  or  by  martyrs  who  walked  over  the  fiery 
ploughshares. 

Narka  had  always  vaguely  held  that  suffering  was 
in  itself  an  agency  of  redemption,  and  meritorious  apart 
from  all  merit  or  I'esponse  in  the  sufferer.  The-  old 
creed  was  now  asserting  itself  with  the  passionate  in- 
tensity which  belongs  rather  to  fanaticism  than  to  faith. 
She  looked  upon  herself  as  a  victim  for  her  people,  an 
object  of  complacency  to  the  court  of  heaven.  Her 
mind,  her  senses,  her  heart,  inflamed  by  these  stern  and 
sanguine  orthodoxies,  all  shared  the  intoxication  of  the 
vision  they  had  conjured  up.  Religious  stimulants 
have  a  close  and  very  terrible  parallel  with  alcoholic 
ones,  especially  when,  as  in  Narka's  case,  the  passion  of 
love  finds  itself  mixed  up  with  them.  In  this  splendid 
apotheosis,  where  she  was  the  central  figure,  she  was 


JSfarka.  303 

not  alone — Basil  Zorokoff  was  by  her  side,  he  was  whis- 
pering in  her  ear  ;  evex'y  fibre  of  her  heart  was  thrilling 
to  what  he  whispered;  she  felt  his  breath  upon  her 
cheek,  she  felt  the  warm  clasp  of  his  arm  I'ound  her. 
Ah  !  let  fate  do  its  worst  upon  her;  with  that  arm  clasp- 
ing her  she  could  never  be  wholly  miserable.  But  sud- 
denly the  smile  of  rapture  that  trembled  on  her  lips  died 
away.  What  fool's  paradise  had  she  wandered  into  ? 
She  was  in  prison,  and  so  perhaps  was  Basil,  for  all  she 
knew.  There  was  that  box  containing  the  articles  in 
his  handwriting!  If  the  writing  should  be  traced? 
Narka  shuddered,  but  quickly  dismissing  the  horrible 
thought,  she  remembered  that  Basil  was  in  France,  and 
that  his  own  government  could  not  touch  him,  and  the 
French  police  were  not  likely  to  be  able  to  identify  the 
writing  of  a  Russian. 

The  great  clock  struck  five,  and  the  profound  stillness 
began  to  be  broken  by  those  sounds  which  announce, 
even  in  a  prison,  that  the  inmates  are  awakening  to  the 
activities  of  life.  Warders  came  and  went  along  the 
flagged  passages,  doors  were  opened  and  shut,  the  bell 
summoned  the  prisoners  to  the  scant  morning  meal. 
Narka  was  not  in  the  category  of  those  who  had  to  obey 
its  call.  Her  food  was  brought  to  her.  She  was  too 
faint  and  feverish  to  feel  any  appetite,  but  she  knew  that 
this  was  partly  the  effect  of  hunger,  so  she  ate  a  few 
mouthf  uls,  and  went  back  to  her  visions.  The  morning 
wore  on.  It  was  near  noon,  and  she  was  still  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  her  bed,  listless,  tired,  her  mind  strained  be- 
tween something  like  ecstasy  and  stupor,  when  the  door 
of  her  cell  opened,  and  some  one  pronounced  her  name. 
She  started,  stood  straight  up,  and  felt  herself  clasped  in 
Sibyl's  arms. 

"Basil ?"  she  said,  in  a  frightened  whisper,  and  disen- 


304  Narka. 

gaging  herself,  she  fixed  her  passionate,  yearning  eyes 
on  Sibyl, 

"  He  has  told  us  everything." 

"And  you  forgive  me  ?     You  forgive  us  both  ?" 

' '  Forgive  you !  My  brave,  generous  Narka,  what  have 
I  to  forgive?"  And  Sibyl  kissed  her  again,  tenderly, 
clingingly,  and  then  she  dx'ew^  her  to  the  bed,  and  they 
sat  down  together. 

Narka  was  crying;  it  was  an  immense  relief  both  to 
her  nerves  and  her  heart,  and  Sibyl  let  the  teai-s  flow 
on,  wiping  them  away  gently  with  her  own  little  cam- 
bric handkerchief,  and  kissing  the  heavy  white  lids 
betweentimes.  But  Narka  was  not  one  to  indulge  long 
in  the  luxury  of  emotion.  She  drew  a  deep  breath,  and 
then,  lifting  her  head  from  Sibyl's  shoulder, 

"Tell  me  what  has  happened,"  she  said.  "Has  he 
been  arrested  ?" 

"Who?    Basil?   No.    Did  you  hear  that  he  had  been  ?" 

"I  have  heard  nothing.  I  have  seen  nobody.  I 
thought  Marguerite  would  have  come." 

"  She  has  been  trying  to  get  to  see  you  from  the  first, 
but  they  made  difficulties.  Gaston  saw  the  president  of 
the  Petit  Parquet  this  morning." 

"Ah!  And  what  did  he  tell  him?  About  the  ai'ti- 
cles  in  that  box  ?     Do  they  know  who  wrote  them  ?" 

"They  have  not  got  the  box.  It  seems  that  just  as 
the  detective  was  carrying  it  off,  a  man  fell  upon  him 
and  knocked  him  down,  and  seized  it  and  made  away 
with  it." 

"  Oh !     Who  was  the  man,  did  they  say  ?" 

"He  was  a  rebel,  who  had  been  wounded  in  the  head 
during  the  emeute.     Gaston  did  not  hear  his  name." 

"It  was  Antoine  Drex!"  Narka  exclaimed,  with  sud- 
den elation. 


JVarka.  305 

"Oh,  Nai'ka!"  said  Sibyl,  shocked  at  what  seemed 
to  her  like  cynical  complacency  in  the  disreputable  cir- 
cumstances ;  ' '  what  could  have  induced  you  to  mix 
yourself  up  with  those  low  men  and  their  politics  ?" 

"I  did  not  mix  myself  up  with  them,"  protested  Nar- 
ka.  ' '  I  have  never  meddled  in  their  politics  here. 
Why  should  I  ?" 

"But  you  have  meddled  in  Russian  politics.  They 
say  you  have  been  associating  with  the  worst  revolu- 
tionists, and  frequenting  their  meetings.  They  say  you 
were  at  one  on  the  lOtli  where  a  plot  was  discussed  for 
murdering  our  Emperor." 

"That  is  a  lie.  I  was  not  there.  And  if  I  had  been, 
I  should  certainly  have  not  voted  for  such  an  insane 
crime  as  that.  What  stupidity!  What  good  covild  it 
do  to  murder  the  Emperor?  Who  could  have  said  I  was 
there  ?  Not  that  it  matters.  Even  if  I  had  been,  I  am 
in  a  foreign  country,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  Russian 
tyranny.     Their  slanders  can't  touch  me  here." 

"Dear,  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Sibyl,  with  a  certain 
tender  hesitation;  "if  it  is  proved,  or  even  asserted  on 
good  authority,  that  you  have  been  mixed  up  with  the 
revolutionary  movement,  the  Russian  law  will  reach 
you  here  just  as  surely  as  if  you  were  at  home." 

"How  so  ?"     Narka  started  perceptibly. 

"If  the  Russian  authorities  demand  it,  our  ambassa- 
dor will  be  obliged  to  claim  you  as  a  Russian  subject. " 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Narka,  turning  a  white 
face  to  her. 

' '  Dearest,  did  you  not  know  ?  As  a  Russian  subject, 
guilty  of  high-treason,  you  will  be  handed  over  to  our 
ambassador  and  taken  back  to  be  tried  in  Russia." 

Narka  stared  at  her,  every  feature  convulsed,  while 
a  cold  chill  of  horror  stole  the  heat  out  of  her  blood. 
20 


306  Narlm. 

"  They  will  send  me  back  to  Russia  V  she  murmured, 
in  a  voice  tliat  sounded  like  a  whisper  in  the  dark. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  did  not  know  ?  Oh,  my  dar- 
ling, what  blind  folly  you  have  been  guilty  of  in  med- 
dling with  politics  and  conspiracies!  And  what  was 
Ivan  Gorff  about  that  he  did  not  warn  you  ?  He  knows 
the  perils  and  the  risks  of  it  all.  It  was  unpardonable 
of  him  not  to  have  warned  and  protected  you.  But  per- 
haps you  did  not  tell  Ivan  ?  If  you  would  but  trust 
your  friends,  Narka!" 

But  Narka  did  not  hear  what  she  was  saying.  Her 
lips  had  fallen  apart;  there  came  a  blackness  under  her 
eyes  as  if  they  reflected  suddenly  some  invisible  si^ec- 
tacle  of  woe  or  horror;  her  hands  opened  and  closed 
nervously,  and  then  crept  slowly  up  and  coiled  round 
her  neck;  she  presented  an  image  of  terror  and  despair 
awful  to  behold.  Sibyl  watched  her  with  intensely  cu- 
rious but  not  unpitiful  eyes;  she  pitied  her  sincerely, 
but  she  pitied  hei-self  more ;  she  wanted  to  save  Narka, 
but  she  wanted  first  to  save  Basil  and  the  pride  of  the 
ZorokofiPs.  Tlie  moment  had  now  come,  she  thought, 
for  proposing  the  only  expedient  which  might  do  this. 
She  laid  her  hand  on  Nai'ka's  tense  arm;  it  shuddered 
under  the  touch. 

"This  is  what  I  have  dreaded  from  the  moment  I 
heard  of  your  being  arrested,"  she  said.  "  I  lay  awake 
all  last  night  thinking  how  I  could  save  you,  and  pray- 
ing to  God  to  show  me  a  way.  For,  Narka,  there  is  no 
use  in  trying  to  deceive  ourselves:  you  will  be  handed 
over  to  the  Russian  government  and  taken  to  St.  Pe- 
tersburg, and  then —  But,  darling,  thei'e  is  one  chance 
still  of  saving  you.  I  know  not  how  to  propose  it,  for 
the  sacrifice  will  be  almost  worse  than  the  sacrifice  of 
your  life." 


JVarka.  307 

Narka  did  not  make  a  sign,  but  sat  staring  at  vacancy, 
her  eyes  still  riveted  on  that  unseen  horror. 

"Beloved,"  continued  Sibyl,  in  her  soft,  caressing 
voice,  "if  you  are  sent  back  to  Russia,  it  means  Kron- 
stadt" — a  tremor  ran  through  Narka — "or  Siberia;  in 
either  case  a  fate  as  cruel  as  death — and  you  are  parted 
from  Basil  forever.  If  you  give  him  up  voluntarily 
now,  you  will  remain  free,  and  you  will  be  still  his  sis- 
ter and  mine." 

Narka  did  not  speak,  but  she  moved  her  head  im- 
perceptibly toward  Sibyl;  the  movement  seemed  to 
say,  "  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

Sibyl  stole  one  arm  round  her  neck,  and  speaking 
rapidly,  "  Oh,  my  darling,"  she  said,  "  if  I  could  take  tlie 
sting  out  of  the  sacrifice  for  you ! . . .  but  the  alternative 
is  so  horrible  it  will  give  you  courage.  Renounce 
Basil ;  tell  him  you  have  ceased  to  care  for  him ;  that  you 
will  not  many  him  because  you  don't  love  him.  He  will 
then  be  free  to  go  and  offer  himself  to  Prince  Krinsky's 
daughter,  and  ask  her  to  obtain  your  release." 

Narka  at  last  was  moved  from  her  stony  immobility. 
She  slowly  drew  away  her  hands  from  about  her  neck 
and  dropped  them,  and  looked  at  Sibyl.  "  Tell  him  that 
I  do  not  love  himf  she  repeated.  "He  would  not 
believe  me;  he  would  know  that  it  was  a  lie." 

"  He  knew  it  once,  dear;  but  you  may  have  changed 
since  then.  How  many  women  would !  Remember  it 
is  nearly  two  years  since  you  have  met." 

"  It  is  not  three  days  I  I  saw  him  here  before  you  did. 
He  came  to  me  the  moment  he  arrived  in  Paris,  and  he 
knows  whether  or  not  I  have  ceased  to  love  him.  Yes, 
he  knows — he  knows  that  I  love  him  with  my  whole 
soul ;  that  to  give  him  up  would  be  to  me  woi'se  than 
death,  worse  than  Kronstadt!"     Her   eyes,  a  moment 


308  JVarka. 

ago  fixed  and  lifeless,  grew  suddenly  incandescent  as 
they  met  Sibyl's,  glittering  with  fury. 

"So  you  have  been  deceiving  me  to  the  very  last!" 
Sibyl  said,  with  a  light  laugh  that  sounded  horrid; 
"  while  I  have  been  watching  and  praying,  and  straining 
every  nerve  to  save  you,  you  have  been  playing  the 
hypocrite,  spreading  your  toils  I'ound  my  brother,  and 
acting  a  living  lie !  a  false  friend !  a  companion  of  men 
who  plot  murder!     You  are  a  base,  guilty  woman !" 

' '  Guilty  ?"  repeated  Narka,  and  she  rose  slowly  to  her 
feet,  no  longer  the  cowed,  terror-stricken  creatui'e  of  a 
moment  ago,  but  a  gi*and,  passionate  woman,  strong  in 
her  innocence,  and  conscious  by  her  sufferings  of  being 
set  high  above  this  proud  daughter  of  princes — "guilty  ? 
Look  at  that  symbol."  And  she  pointed  to  the  white 
Figure  on  the  wall.  "We  shall  both  of  us  be  judged 
by  it,  condemned  or  acquitted  according  to  the  likeness 
we  bear  to  it.  Which  of  us,  you  or  I,  as  we  stand  here, 
most  resembles  Him  ?  Is  it  you  with  your  wealth,  your 
splendor,  and  your  high  place  in  this  world,  your  feast- 
ing and  purple  and  fine  linen,  your  pampered  ease ;  or 
I,  in  humiliation  and  poverty,  in  my  body  seamed  with 
scars,  marked  and  cut  with  the  hangman's  lash" — Sibyl 
uttered  a  low  cry,  and  hid  her  face — "with  my  heart 
pierced  by  tlie  murder  of  my  kindred,  with  my  soul 
made  sorrowful  to  death  by  the  sufferings  of  my  people, 
and  the  sight  of  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  them  by  you 
and  your  caste  ?  Is  it  I,  in  my  nakedness  of  this  world's 
goods,  in  imprisonment  and  persecution,  in  the  martyr's 
death  that  perhaps  awaits  me  ?  Let  the  Christ  speak, 
and  say  which  of  us  two  is  guilty,  which  of  us  two  de- 
serves that  glance  of  recognition  reserved  to  those  who 
here  below  have  been  likened  to  the  Man  of  Sorrows  I" 

Narka  had  begun  in  a  husky,  agitated  voice,  but  as 


Narha.  309 

she  went  on  it  rose,  under  the  stress  of  irrepressible  emo- 
tion, to  higli  vibrating  tones.  As  she  stood  pointing  to 
the  Figure  on  the  cross,  Sibyl  almost  expected  to  hear 
a  voice  resound  in  the  dai'k  cell,  uttering  the  awful  sen- 
tence of  acquittal  and  denunciation :  "  Come,  ye  blessed ! 
— Depart,  ye  accursed !" 

"  Narka !  Narka !"  she  cried,  cowering  before  the  terri- 
ble wrath  of  the  woman  she  had  scorned  a  moment  ago, 
and  who  now  stood  like  the  avenger  of  the  brethren, 
accusing  her  before  the  judgment-seat;  "why  do  you 
curse  me?  I  have  not  done  those  things;  I  had  no 
hand  in  the  murder  of  your  kindred  or  in  the  sorrows 
that  have  come  upon  you.  I  have  loved  you  always; 
but  you  broke  away  from  me;  you  tui-ned  against  us, 
and  took  part  with  those  who  hate  us.  Why  did  not 
you  trust  me?  I  wanted  to  save  you — God  knows  I  did 
— and  you  upbraid  me  as  if  I  had  been  seeking  to  de- 
stroy you." 

But  Sibyl  too  had  had  her  hour  of  exaltation.  Her 
nerves,  taxed  to  their  utmost  by  the  strain  of  the  last 
three  daj^s,  broke  down,  and  she  bui'st  into  a  fit  of  hys- 
terical weeping. 

Narka  seemed  hardly  conscious  of  her  presence.  Her 
whole  soul  was  torn  asunder  by  this  choice  that  was 
thrust  upon  her  of  renouncing  Basil  or  going  back  to 
encounter  again  those  horrors  of  which  she  had  never 
spoken  to  any  human  being. 

The  hour  struck  without  either  of  them  hearing  it; 
but  it  was  a  relief  to  both  when  the  wai'der  came  and 
said  it  was  time  for  Sibyl  to  come  away.  When  the 
door  had  closed  upon  her,  Narka  flung  herself  upon 
the  bed,  and  her  bursting  heart  once  more  found  relief 
iji  a  passionate  flood  of  tears. 


310  JVarka. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

When  Basil  went  in  search  of  Ivan  on  the  morning 
of  Narka's  arrest,  he  heard  tliat  his  friend  had  left 
town,  and,  as  usual,  without  saying  where  he  was  going 
or  when  he  would  return.  Basil  went  every  day  to  the 
house  to  inquire,  and  on  the  fourth  day,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, he  walked  into  Ivan's  room,  and  found  him 
smoking  a  pipe  and  reading  the  newspajier. 

"You  have  not  heard  what  has  happened?"  said 
Basil,  guessing  fi-om  his  quiet  air  and  occupation  that 
he  knew  nothing. 

"What?"  said  Ivan,  removing  his  pipe,  and  opening 
his  eyes  in  hilarious  curiosity. 

* '  Narka  has  been  arrested.  She  has  been  four  days 
in  prison." 

Ivan  dropped  the  newspaper  with  an  oath. 

Basil  related  all  he  knew  of  the  event.  Then  he 
said :  "  Who  has  done  it  ?     Can  it  be  Schenk  ?" 

Ivan  did  not  answer.  He  laid  his  clinched  hands  on 
his  knees,  and  bent  forward,  as  if  lost  in  perplexity. 
He  knew  of  Schenk's  passion  for  Narka,  and  Olga  Borzi- 
doff  knew  it;  she  had  complained  bitterly  to  Ivan  of 
Schenk's  unfaithfulness,  and  she  was  a  violent,  vin- 
dictive woman,  whose  jealousy  would  be  unscrupulous. 
If  Schenk  had  let  out  the  fact  that  Narka  had  docu- 
ments in  her  possession,  Olga  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  use  the  knowledge  in  order  to  destroy  her.  There 
was  no  use,  however,  in  confiding  these  suspicions  to 
Basil. 


JVarka.  311 

"Schenk  has  never  done  it,"  he  said ;  "he  is  not  capa- 
ble of  it;  but  he  may  have  been  fool  enough  to  let  out 
something  that  compromised  lier.  If  he  has,  he  de- 
serves the  knout!"  Ivan  ground  his  teeth  with  a  sinis- 
ter sound.  "But  the  thing  is,  what  is  to  be  done  for 
her  ?  Your  sister  must  have  interest  at  court.  She  will 
use  it,  won't  .she  ?  Napoleon,  for  all  he  is  a  despot,  has 
a  man's  heart,  and  can  be  pitiful,  and  the  Empress  is  a 
woman." 

"That  won't  help,  if  it  can  be  proved  that  Narka 
has  been  mixed  up  in  our  work.  If  they  accuse  her 
of  offending  against  the  French  law,  well  and  good; 
the  people  here  may  help;  but  if  not,  there  is  no  one  but 
Krinsky  who  could  do  it.'' 

" That  will  be  the  devil  to  pay!" said  Ivan,  savagely. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  the  devil  to  pay,"  repeated  Basil, 
and  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the  window,  his  hands 
thrust  deep  in  his  pockets.  "You  see,"  he  said,  still 
looking  out  of  the  window,  and  speaking  with  his  back 
to  Ivan,  "as  tho.se  infernal  papers,  which  I  believe  are 
at  the  bottom  of  it  all,  have  been  rescued,  they  have  no 
material  proof  of  her  having  worked  with  us;  they  may 
accuse  her,  but  if  they  can't  prove  anything,  they  will 
have  to  let  her  go.  The  French  law  would  protect  her 
so  far,  would  it  not  ?" 

"If  the  Russian  government  say  they  have  proof 
that  she  has  been  conspiring — and  they  won't  stick  at 
saying  it  if  it  suits  lliem — the  French  law  can't  refuse  to 
give  her  up,"  said  Ivan. 

"  In  that  case,  my  sister  must  go  at  once  to  Ki*insky." 

"She  can't  go  to  him  to-day,  nor  to-morrow  either; 
he  left  Paris  last  night  for  Berlin." 

"Confound  it!  did  he?"  said  Basil,  turning  suddenly 
round.      "  And  when  is  he  to  be  back  ?" 


312  Narha. 

"I  don't  know.  He  is  to  stop  at  Berlin  two  days, 
and  then,  unless  his  business  is  arranged  at  once  with 
Bismarck,  he  will  go  on  to  St.  Petersburg." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  when  the  trial  is  likely  to  come 
on  ?"  asked  Basil. 

"I  don't  suppose  before  a  month  at  least." 

"And  they  will  keep  lier  in  prison  all  that  time  un- 
tried ?" 

"Yes.  They  have  got  their  prisow  preventive  here 
like  us,  for  all  their  boasted  liberty  and  justice.  But  it 
"will  serve  a  good  purpose  for  once  by  giving  Krinsky 
time  to  be  back  before  the  trial  comes  on." 

Basil  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  Then,  "We  can't 
"wait  for  Krinsky  to  come  back,"  he  said.  "I  must 
start  after  him  at  once,  and  secure  him  before  he  leaves 
for  St.  Petersburg.  If  I  take  the  express  to-night,  I  am 
safe  to  catch  him  at  Berlin.     I  shall  be  able  to  get  to  see 

him  through  Z ,  of  our  embassy  there.     He  is  not  a 

bad  fellow,  and  though  my  father  made  a  mess  between 
him  and  me,  I  don't  believe  he  is  as  savage  against  me 
as  they  made  out.  Anyhow,  there  is  nothing  else  to  be 
done.  I  will  drive  now  to  Sibyl's,  and  tell  her  I  am 
off."  He  pulled  out  his  watch.  "It  is  five  o'clock. 
I  have  a  couple  of  hours  to  do  a  few  things  and  eat 
a  mouthful  before  I  start." 

"I  will  go  out  with  you,"  said  Ivan;  "I  must  see 
Schenk  if  he  be  in  town;  1  must  find  out  something 
about  this  devilish  business." 

The  two  friends  went  down-stairs  together ;  then  they 
parted.  Basil  hailed  a  cab,  and  drove  to  the  Rue  St. 
Dominique. 

Sibyl  was  out.  She  had  left  home  three  hours  ago, 
the  servant  said,  so  "was  likely  to  be  soon  back.  But 
Basil  could  not  wait.     He  went  into  the  library,  and 


Narka.  313 

wrote  a  uote  to  M.  de  Beaucrillou,  telliug  him  of  liis  de- 
parture for  Berlin,  and  the  motive  of  it. 

Sibyl,  meantime,  had  gone  to  make  a  call  at  the  Rus- 
sian embassy.  She  had  not  carried  out  her  intention 
of  appealing  to  Marie  Krinsky  on  behalf  of  Narka. 
Both  Basil  and  M.  de  Beaucrillon  were  of  opinion  that 
it  was  better  to  make  sure,  in  the  first  instance,  whether 
the  interference  of  the  Prince  was  necessary.  But  she 
had  her  own  scheme  to  forward,  and  a  visit  to  Princess 
Krinsky  was  likely  to  do  this.  She  learned  to  her  dis- 
appointment that  the  Prince  had  left  the  night  before 
for  Berlin,  and  the  ladies  for  Fontainebleau  that  morn- 
ing. 

As  she  drove  in  under  her  own  gateway,  M.  de  Beau- 
crillon's  brougham  was  moving  away  from  before  the 
steps  of  the  house.  He  met  her  in  the  hall  with  two 
letters  in  his  hand.  One  was  Basil's,  the  other  was  from 
Marguerite. 

"Come  in  here  a  moment,"  he  said,  and  they  went 
into  the  library.  "Here  is  a  slate  on  our  heads!"  he 
exclaimed.  "Basil  is  off  to  Berlin  after  Krinsky,  and 
Marguerite  tells  me  the  trial  comes  on  on  Monday. 
'It  may  be  all  over  before  Basil  will  have  seen  Krinsky. 
Though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  we  don't  know  yet 
whether  Krinsky  can  be  of  any  use." 

Sibyl  took  the  two  notes  from  his  hand  without  speak- 
ing. There  is  an  electric,  instantaneous  comprehension 
that  comes  to  the  brain  in  moments  of  supreme  excite- 
ment, and  enables  it  to  seize  all  the  points  of  a  ques- 
tion and  arrive  at  a  conclusion  without  any  process  of 
argument.  Such  a  moment  had  come  to  Sibyl  now. 
With  one  glance  she  saw  the  whole  situation,  the  cir- 
cumstances, the  possibilities.  Basil's  absence  at  this 
crisis  was  providential.     Tlie  trial  would  be  over,  per- 


314  Narha. 

liaps,  befoi'e  lie  lieard  it  had  begun,  and  there  was  an 
end  of  tlie  terror  which  had  haunted  her  of  his  appear- 
ing in  court  and  publicly  compromising  himself  from 
a  sense  of  chivalrous  loyalty  to  Narka. 

"I  must  see  at  once  about  getting  counsel,"  said  M. 
de  Beaucrillon,  too  selflessly  absorbed  in  Narka's  trou- 
ble and  the  impending  crisis  to  stop  to  consider  the 
motive  of  his  wife's  silence.      "  There  is  no  time  to  lose. 

I  will  go  at  once  to  Maitre  X ,     If  I  am  late  for 

dinner,  don't  wait  for  me." 


Narka.  315 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

It  was  not  often  that  so  gi'eat  a  ti'eat  as  this  trial 
of  Narka's  was  provided  for  the  sensation-loving  Pa- 
risian public.  Amongst  the  numbers  who  crushed  in 
to  assist  at  it  there  was  not  one  who  remembered  a  trial 
which  contained  sucli  original  and  dramatic  elements. 
The  prisoner  was  a  young  girl  of  rare  beauty  and  brill- 
iant gifts,  and  among  the  witnesses  were  to  figure  a 
grande  dame  and  a  Sister  of  Charity.  The  judge  and 
counsel  had  been  besieged  with  applications  for  ten 
times  more  places  than  the  court  contained,  and  when 
the  day  came  the  crowd  even  outside  was  so  great  that 
the  police  had  much  to  do  to  facilitate  the  entrance  of 
those  who  had  tickets. 

The  court  was  densely  filled  long  befoi'e  the  entrance 
of  the  judge,  but  curiosity  reached  its  climax  when  the 
door  opposite  the  judgment-seat  opened,  and  the  prison- 
er, walking  between  two  gendarmes,  was  led  to  the  bar. 

Narka  had  been  so  exhausted  and  strained  by  tlie 
week's  imprisonment  that  on  the  eve  it  had  seemed 
to  her  impossible  she  could  go  through  the  ordeal  of 
this  trial ;  but  when  the  morrow  came,  and  with  it  the 
challenge  for  immediate  effox't,  her  splendid  young  vital- 
ity asserted  itself,  and  her  high  courage  rose  to  the  occa- 
sion. She  was  luminously  pale,  but  there  was  no  lack 
of  fire  in  her  eyes,  and  no  trace  of  weakness  in  her  beai^- 
ing,  as  she  stood  at  the  bar.  A  murmur,  partly  of  ad- 
miration, partly  of  curiosity,  rose  from  every  part  of 
the  audience;  but  this  quickly  subsided,  and  profound 
silence  reigned  in  the  court. 


316  NarTca. 

The  case  against  the  prisoner  was  briefly  stated :  from 
the  time  of  her  arrival  in  Paris  she  had  consorted  with 
conspirators  of  various  nationalities,  and  attended  rev- 
olutionary meetings  where  plots  were  hatched  against 
the  governments  and  the  lives  of  kings;  she  had  gone 
to  live  in  a  district  where  disaffection  was  rampant ;  she 
had  I'eceived  treasonable  documents,  and  sheltered  ring- 
leaders of  the  recent  emeute  and  notoriously  bad  char- 
acters, etc. 

The  first  witness  called  up  was  Olga  Borzidoff,  She 
swore  that  the  prisoner  had  to  her  knowledge  habitually 
frequented  revolutionary  meetings,  and  that  on  the  10th 
instant  she  had  been  present  at  one  where  a  scheme  for 
the  assassination  of  the  Emperor  of  the  French  had  been 
arranged,  and  the  prisoner  was  chosen  by  lots  to  give 
the  signal  for  throwing  the  bomb-shell  into  his  carriage. 
The  witness  had  been  so  horrified  by  the  proceedings 
and  plans  discussed  at  this  meeting  that  she  had  gone 
immediately  and  given  warning  to  the  police;  she  had 
hei'self  assisted  at  former  meetings  of  the  sort,  ignorant 
of  their  sinister  character ;  but  her  eyes  had  been  opened 
on  this  occasion,  and  her  conscience  awakened.  Olga 
Borzidoff  deposed  in  a  spirit  of  vindictive  personal 
rancor  which  greatly  damaged  the  weight  of  her  evi- 
dence, and  at  last  she  became  so  violent  and  aggressive 
that  the  judge  was  obliged  to  call  her  to  order. 

Madame  Blaquette  was  next  called  up,  and  came  on 
whining  and  whimpering,  and  conveying  her  distress 
to  Narka  by  glances  and  gesticulations.  She  gave  her 
evidence  incoherently,  contradicting  herself  at  every 
sentence;  she  had  been  beguiled  and  deceived,  she  said, 
by  a  beggar-woman  toward  whom  she  had  exercised  be- 
nevolence to  the  utmost  extent  of  her  means,  having 
on  one  occasion  given  the  last  j)enny  she  possessed  to 


JSFarJca.  317 

relieve  her  wants ;  the  woman's  ingratitude  was  a  bitter 
drop  in  the  cup  of  her  manifold  disappointments.  The 
landlady  was  wandering  on  to  explain  the  nature  of 
these  disappointments,  when  the  judge  cut  her  short, 
and  after  a  series  of  direct  questions  discharged  her. 
Her  evidence  had  neither  served  nor  hurt  Narka. 

Several  other  witnesses,  friends  of  Olga  Borzidoff ,  were 
heard,  and  these  swore  to  the  prisoner's  presence  at  the 
meeting  on  the  10th.  This  testimony  was,  so  far,  the 
only  substantial  charge  against  her.  Then  the  counsel 
for  the  crown  made  his  charge,  and  the  witnesses  for  the 
defence  followed. 

The  first  called  was  the  Comtesse  de  Beaucrillon. 
Sibyl  was  one  of  those  persons  whose  charm  never  de- 
serts them  under  any  circumstances.  As  she  advanced 
now  to  the  witness  box,  leaning  on  her  husband's  arm, 
she  looked  just  as  chai'ming,  just  as  much  at  her  ease, 
as  if  she  had  been  taking  part  in  a  court  ceremonial, 
or  dispensing  cups  of  tea  in  her  boudoir.  She  sat  down 
with  that  languishing  grace  which  always  suggested  a 
nymph  sinking  into  the  water,  and  then  drew  off  her 
gloves  and  pulled  out  her  Lilliputian  handkei'chief ,  scat- 
tering a  scent  of  violets  that  perfumed  the  heavy  air 
deliciously  around  her. 

After  the  preliminary  formula  of  questions,  the  judge 
said,  "How  long  have  you  known  the  prisoner  ?" 

"All  my  life,  monsieur.  We  were  brought  up  to- 
gether; we  studied  together;  we  were  like  sisters." 

' '  The  prisoner  is  charged  with  having  become  ac- 
quainted with  revolutionists,  and  been  cognizant  of 
plots  against  the  life  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  even 
while  under  the  roof  of  Princess  Zorokoff." 

"Ah !  Monsieur  le  President,  such  charges  are  wicked 
slanders.     My  sister  Narka  was  too  pure  and  good  to 


318  Narka. 

associate  with  any  but  those  who  were  pure  and  good 
like  herself." 

There  was  an  indescribable  charm  in  the  way  Sibyl 
said  "my  sister  Narka,"  in  her  softly  agitated  voice. 

"  Madame,"  continued  the  judge,  "the  court  cannot 
accept  sentimental  evidence,  however  convincing  it  may 
be.  Can  you  assert  upon  your  oath  that  to  your  know- 
ledge the  prisoner  never  associated,  was  never  in  com- 
munication, while  in  Russia,  with  any  persons  disaffec- 
ted toward  the  imperial  government  ?" 

Sibyl  seemed  too  horrified  to  answer.  With  a  mar- 
vellous play  of  feature  she  looked  up  at  her  husband, 
and  clasping  her  hands  nervously,  looked  back  at  the 
judge.  "Am  /  suspected  of  being  disaffected  to  the 
Emperor's  government?"  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  pei-fect  than  the  little  bit  of  comedy ;  her  face  and 
her  hands  expressed  amazement,  amusement,  and  wound- 
ed loyalty  all  at  once,  and  the  pantomime  told  more 
effectively  in  Narka's  behalf  than  if  she  had  solemnly 
sworn  to  belief  in  her  innocence. 

"  You,  madame,  are  absolutely  above  suspicion,"  pro- 
tested the  judge,  feeling  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in 
rousing  the  sympathies  of  the  public  on  the  side  of  this 
sensitive,  high-bred  lady  by  inferentially  accusing  her 
of  a  vulgar  crime. 

Sibyl  saw  her  advantage,  and  immediately  the  great 
crystal  di*ops  welled  up  into  her  light  blue  eyes  and 
trembled  there,  and  then  rolled  off  her  curled  lashes. 
She  was  one  of  those  dangerous,  uot-to-be-trusted  women 
to  whom  tears  ai*e  becoming,  and  she  knew  it.  "I  beg 
your  pardon,  M.  le  President,"  she  said,  her  voice  quiver- 
ing with  repressed  emotion;  "but  if  you  have  ever  had 
a  sister  whom  you  loved  and  trusted  with  your  whole 
heart,  you  will  understand  that  I  cannot  listen  unmoved 


Narka.  319 

to  such  hoi'rible  insinuations  against  mine."  Overcome 
by  her  feelings,  she  covered  her  face  and  sobbed  gently. 

A  hum  of  admiration  and  respect  made  itself  heard  in 
the  court. 

Sibyl,  after  struggling  for  a  moment  with  her  emotion, 
lifted  her  head  with  the  air  of  one  nerving  herself  for 
courageous  effort,  but  the  judge,  obeying  the  murmured 
desire  of  the  court,  said,  "The  witness  may  retire." 

"  Let  Soeur  Marguerite  be  heard." 

No  more  striking  contrast  could  have  been  found  than 
that  which  this  witness  presented  to  the  last.  Instead 
of  the  blonde  elegante,  trailing  her  silken  skirts  with 
undulating  grace,  scattering  the  scent  of  violets  around, 
and  playing  on  the  court  with  her  wales,  her  sudden 
tears,  her  harmonies  and  blandishments,  there  appeared 
at  the  bar  a  small,  well-shaped  young  woman  clothed 
in  a  gray  woollen  gown  and  a  broad  white  head-gear, 
from  under  which  there  looked  out  a  youthful  face  with 
irregular  features,  a  nose  full  of  character,  imperceptibly 
retrousse,  and  a  pair  of  wistful  brown  eyes  alight  with 
courage,  simplicity,  and  truth.  The  shapely  hands, 
roughened  with  work  and  the  weather,  were  slipped 
into  her  wide  sleeves,  and  Marguerite  in  the  witness  box 
looked  like  a  diligent  little  scliolar  who  came  up  for 
examination,  primed  and  loaded,  afraid  of  nothing  except 
of  being  confused  into  a  wrong  answer  from  nervousness. 

"  Wliat  is  your  name  ?"  asked  the  judge. 

"  Soeur  Marguerite,  M.  le  Juge." 

"Say  M.  le  President,"  corrected  some  one  in  a  sotto 
voce. 

"Pardon !  M.  le  President,"  she  repeated,  with  a  blush. 

The  usual  interrogations  followed,  and  then  the  judge 
said,  "Why  did  the  prisoner  go  to  live  at  La  Villette  ?" 

"Because  it  is  cheap,  M.  le  President." 


320  JVarka. 

"How  did  she  spend  her  time  there — do  you  know ?" 

"She  gave  lessons,  M.  le  President;  and  she  went 
about  with  me  visiting  the  sick  poor.  She  is  a  capital 
sick-nurse." 

"Did  she  not  keep  low  company  ?" 

"She  kept  company  with  me,  M.  le  President." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  ma  soeur;  she  associated 
with  the  bad  characters  of  the  place  ?" 

"  So  do  I  and  my  sisters,  M.  le  President." 

"Vive  Sceur  Marguerite!"  shouted  a  voice,  and  the 
cry  was  taken  up  in  chorus  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  where 
La  Villette  was  largely  represented.  The  judge  turned 
round  angi'ily ;  but  before  he  could  speak,  Marguerite 
drew  her  hand  from  her  sleeve  and  made  a  little  down- 
ward gesture,  as  if  she  were  slapping  a  naughty  child. 
"Hush,  will  you!"  she  cried;  "do  you  want  to  get  me 
into  trouble  ?" 

This  irregular  proceeding  had  the  desired  effect;  so 
the  judge  overlooked  it,  and  w^ent  on. 

"You  are  acquainted  with  a  man  named  Antoine 
Drex  ?" 

"Yes,  M.  le  President;  I  have  long  been  acquainted 
with  Antoine  Drex." 

"He  bears  a  detestable  character — a  rioter,  a  drunk- 
ard ;  he  was  a  notoriously  bad  husband ;  he  used  to  beat 
his  wife  ?" 

Marguerite  put  her  head  first  a  little  to  one  side,  then 
a  little  to  the  other,  like  a  meditative  robin.  ' '  Well, 
M.  le  President,  he  was  not  a  model  husbaud ;  but  his 
Avife  was  very  aggravating;  she  had  a  tongue  that  was 
going  all  day  long,  and  she  took  to  drink  before  he  did. 
Our  sisters  always  pitied  Antoine  very  much." 

"  What !  a  wicked  revolutionist  who  incited  the  people 
to  bloodshed  ?" 


Narha.  321 

"M.  le  President,  he  was  not  so  bad  as  that;  c'etait 
un  desespere,  mais  pas  un  revolte.  That  is  the  differ- 
ence. When  he  was  out  of  work  and  had  no  food,  the 
hunger  went  to  his  head.  It  is  so  with  them  all.  But 
he  was  not  a  bad  fellow.  He  loved  his  mother,  and 
was  always  good  to  her;  and  he  would  often  share  his 
crust  with  a  hungry  neighbor." 

"So  would  any  man  who  was  not  a  brute." 

"  Ah !  M.  le  President,  if  that  were  true,  there  would 
be  no  hneutes.  It  is  hunger  that  sends  the  ouvrier 
down  into  the  street.  He  is  not  wicked ;  he  is  bon  en- 
fant if  you  give  him  bread  enough;  but  he  goes  mad 
on  an  empty  stomach,  and  that  hunger-madness  is  the 
worst  of  all." 

There  was  a  rumor  in  the  court  expressing  horror  and 
assent. 

"That  is  a  subject  that  would  carry  us  too  far  from 
the  point  in  question,  ma  soeur,"  said  the  judge:  "the 
question  is,  did  the  prisoner,  knowing  the  character 
Antoine  Drex  bears,  associate  with  him,  and  connive 
at  his  evil  doings  by  hiding  hini  from  the  pursuit  of  the 
law  ?" 

"  M.  le  President,  I  cannot  answer  for  the  other  peo- 
ple who  hid  Antoine  from  the  police ;  but  I  don't  deny 
that  we  did.  He  came  to  us  one  morning  and  asked  us 
to  shelter  him,  and  we  let  him  in,  and  he  went  away 
without  telling  us." 

"Yes,  he  went  away  to  intercept  the  police,  who  had 
just  got  possession  of  a  box  containing  papers  that  would 
have  convicted  the  prisoner  beyond  any  doubt.  Ma 
soeur,  do  you  know  what  those  papers  were  ?" 

"No,  I  do  not;  I  never  saw  them;  and  Mademoiselle 
Larik  never  told  me  Vhat  they  were." 

"You  know  that  she  held  revolutionary  doctrines, 
21 


322  Narka. 

and  connived  at,  if  she  did  not  participate  in,  the  crime 
of  regicide  ?" 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  sort,  and  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it." 

"She  frequented  meetings  where  such  plots  were  dis- 
cussed ?" 

"If  she  did,  it  must  have  been  as  the  prophet  Daniel 
frequented  the  lions'  den :  she  was  taken  there  by  force 
or  by  fraud.  But  I  don't  believe  she  was  ever  present 
at  such  a  meeting." 

' '  There  are  witnesses  to  swear  that  she  was  present  at 
one  where  she  was  designated  as  an  accomplice  in  an 
attempt  on  the  life  of  the  Emperor." 

"M.  le  President,  if  a  court  full  of  witnesses  swore  to 
that,  I  would  not  believe  them." 

"But  if  they  proved  it,  ma  soeur?" 

"Above  all,  if  they  proved  it!  What  a  pitiful  sort 
of  faith  that  is  that  could  be  invalidated  by  proofs !" 

There  was  a  laugh  in  the  court.  The  judge  peered 
over  his  spectacles  at  the  witness,  as  if  debating  whether 
to  join,  at  least  tacitly,  in  the  viouvement  d'hilarite, 
or  call  her  to  order  for  disi'espect  to  the  solemnity 
of  justice.  His  human  sympathies  and  his  sense  of 
humor  prevailed. 

"Ma  soeui',"  he  said,  and  his  sharp  eyes  twinkled  un- 
judiciously  as  they  peered  at  her  through  his  glasses, 
"your  doctrine  concerning  faith  and  testimony  differs 
in  toto  from  that  of  the  court.  There  are  witnesses  to 
prove  that  on  the  10th  inst.  the  prisoner  was  present 
at  the  meeting  in  question,  and  that  evidence  makes 
fatally  against  her,  unless  you  can  bring  forward  wit- 
nesses to  swear  that  she  was  in  some  other  place  that 
day  while  the  meeting  was  going  on." 

Marguerite's  face  lighted  up  with  a  triumphant  ex- 


Narha.  323 

pression.  "On  the  10th?"  she  said.  "At  what  hour 
was  the  meeting-,  II.  le  President  ?" 

"  From  one  in  the  afternoon  to  past  three." 

' '  Then  I  can  swear,  and  bring  othei's  to  swear,  that 
she  was  not  present  at  it.  She  was  with  me,  visiting  a 
sick  child." 

There  was  a  sudden  excitement  in  the  court  at  this. 

"You  are  sure  of  that,  ma  soeur  ?" 

"  I  am  perfectly  sure  of  it." 

"And  you  say  there  were  others  present  ?" 

Marguerite  hesitated  a  moment:  Antoine  Drex  and 
his  old  mother  were  not  imposing  witnesses  to  bring 
forward. 

' '  There  was  a  crowd  outside  who  saw  us  both  come 
out  of  the  house  where  Mademoiselle  Larik  had  been 
singing  to  the  child.  I  can  easily  find  out  some  of  the 
people  who  were  there."  Marguerite  was  conscious  of 
a  certain  collapse  in  the  strength  of  her  testimony  when 
it  came  to  producing  it;  but  the  court  was  with  her, 
and  she  felt  it.  Her  own  word,  her  oath,  would  weigh 
with  them  and  with  the  jury  more  than  a  score  of  the 
most  creditable  witnesses  that  could  be  brought  forward, 
and  the  timid  humility  which  seemed  to  make  her  for- 
get this,  and  lose  sight  of  her  own  value  altogether, 
only  made  her  more  admirable  and  sympathetic.  A 
I'are  and  winning  advocate  she  was  in  her  weakness 
and  her  courage,  her  pathos  and  her  humor,  clothed  in 
the  garb  of  that  voluntary  poverty  which  in  its  heroic 
renunciations  represents  the  most  persuasive  power  on 
earth. 

' '  And  you  can  swear  yourself  that  you  were  with  her 
on  the  10th  at  the  hour  named?"  said  the  judge. 

"I  can  swear  it.  She  came  down  to  the  House  just 
after  our  dinner,  and  she  staid  with  me  till  I  went  out, 


324  Narha. 

and  then  came  with  me  to  Antoine  Dx'ex's  room,  where 
she  sang  a  little  sick  child  to  sleep." 

There  was  a  loud  murmur  from  every  part  of  the 
court ;  it  rose  almost  to  a  cheer.  Narka's  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Marguerite  as  if  she  could  not  look  away;  the  half- 
fierceness  had  melted  out  of  her  face,  and  in  spite  of 
her  immobility  those  dark  eyes,  burning  under  her  level 
brows,  betrayed  the  relenting  emotion  that  was  inva- 
ding and  disarming  her. 

The  judge  was  going  to  speak,  when  a  movement  at 
the  door  arrested  his  attention.  A  messenger  full  of 
haste  frayed  his  way  to  the  judgment-seat,  and  a  short 
parley  followed  between  him  and  the  judge. 

Marguerite  had  i-ecognized  the  commissary  of  police 
from  La  Villette.  She  was  alarmed,  but  not  much  sur- 
prised, when,  turning  from  the  judge,  he  came  straight 
up  to  her.  The  curiosity  of  the  audience  was  greatly 
excited,  and  it  was  not  allayed  when  the  commissary, 
having  made  some  communication  to  Marguerite,  which 
she  received  with  evident  horror  and  amazement,  hurried 
away  with  her  from  the  court. 

And  now  it  was  Narka's  turn.  It  had  seemed  to  her 
before  entering  the  court  that  no  chance  of  escape  or 
acquittal  remained  to  her,  and  in  crossing  the  threshold 
of  the  judgment-hall  she  had  left  all  hope  outside ;  but 
as  the  trial  went  on,  and  nothing  transpired  to  in- 
criminate Basil,  and  as  one  witness  after  another  failed 
to  substantiate  any  charge  against  herself,  her  spirits 
rose;  she  began  to  hope,  and  regained  courage.  The 
only  serious  point  made  against  her  was  by  Olga  Borzi- 
doff,  who  had  sworn  to  her  presence  at  the  meeting 
on  the  10th,  and  to  her  having  been  designated  there 
to  give  the  signal  for  throwing  the  bomb-shell;  but  this 
false  testimony  had  been  wholly  refuted  by  Marguerite, 


KarJca.  325 

■wlio  liad  evidently  carried  the  court  along  with  her,  and 
turned  the  current  of  justice  and  of  public  sentiment 
strongly  in  favor  of  the  prisoner.  When,  therefoi'e, 
Narka  stood  up  to  be  examined,  she  felt  ready  to  undergo 
the  dreaded  interrogatory  with  more  self-possession  than 
an  hour  ago  she  could  have  believed  possible. 

When  it  came  to  the  question  of  her  having  been 
with  Soeur  Marguei'ite  at  the  time  she  was  accused  by 
the  woman  Borzidoff  of  being  at  the  meeting,  the  judge 
said,  "Can  you  remember  any  circumstance  which 
would  help  to  prove  that  alibi  ?" 

"I  can,  M.  le  President,"  Narka  answered,  in  her 
clear,  metallic  tones.  "I  had  lost  my  voice  for  more 
than  a  month, and  that  day,  when  I  was  with  Soeur  Mar- 
guerite, it  suddenly  returned.  It  was  very  unexpected, 
and  I  was  greatly  excited  by  it;  so  was  Soeur  Mai'gue- 
rite." 

"Can  you  call  any  witness  to  prove  that  you  had 
lost  your  voice  before  that  day  ?" 

"Yes;  M.  le  Docteur  X could  certify  to  the  fact. 

He  gave  me  a  consultation  not  long  before.  I  do  not 
recall  the  date,  but  he  probably  could." 

The  judge  was  going  to  put  another  question,  when 
a  note  was  passed  up  to  him.  He  read  it,  and  recog- 
nized the  signatui-e  as  that  of  a  detective  well  known 
to  the  authorities,  and  highly  esteemed  for  his  honesty 
and  skill. 

"You  may  sit  down,"  the  judge  said  to  Narka.  Then 
he  added,  "Let  Jean  Godart  come  forward."  And  a 
middle-aged  man,  dressed  like  a  well-to-do  workman, 
stepped  into  the  witness  box. 

Narka's  heart  began  to  beat  again  with  terror.  Was 
this  a  clever  false  witness  come  to  spring  a  mine  under 
her  feet? 


326  Narha. 

The  witness  having  stated  his  name  and  surname, 
and  his  trade  of  cabinet-maker,  the  judge  said: 

' '  You  were  present  that  afternoon  when  the  prisoner 
sang  in  the  room  occupied  by  Antoine  Drex  and  his 
mother  ?" 

"M.  le  President,  I  was  amongst  the  crowd  under 
the  window,  and  I  waited  to  see  the  singer  come  out,  I 
wanted  badly  to  see  her.  I  did  not  see  her  face  well, 
for  she  wore  a  veil,  and  a  hat  that  came  down  over  her 
forehead;  but  I  noticed  her  figui'e." 

"Was  the  prisoner  alone  ?" 

' '  No ;  she  was  with  Soeur  Marguerite.  It  was  Soeur 
Marguerite  who  told  us  she  had  been  singing  to  the  sick 
child." 

"  Why  did  you  want  so  badly  to  see  the  prisoner  ?" 

"Because  of  her  voice:  it  was  the  most  wonderful 
voice  I  ever  heard.  I  am  fond  of  a  good  song.  It  is 
my  "petit  vice.  I  spend  many  a  franc  on  a  ticket  up 
with  the  gods  when  a  great  singer  comes  to  Paris.  I 
have  heard  the  best  of  them  these  twenty  years  past,  but 
I  never  heard  anything  like  the  voice  of  the  person  who 
sang  that  day  in  the  Cour  des  Chats." 

"What  was  it  like  ?     Describe  it  to  the  court." 

The  witness  shook  his  head.  "It  would  be  a  difficult 
thing  to  describe,"  he  said,  with  a  humorous  smile; 
"but  if  these  gentlemen,"  looking  up  at  the  jury,  "can 
fancy  a  score  of  nightingales  in  a  woman's  throat,  with 
old  cognac  and  oil  poured  out  all  together,  they  will 
have  some  idea  of  the  effect." 

The  jury  were  amused,  and  the  public  laughed. 

"  You  would  know  the  voice  if  you  heard  it  again  ?" 

"Parbleu!  If  I  would  know  it!  It  made  the  blood 
run  warm  in  my  veins.  I  would  know  it  amongst  a 
thousand." 


Narha.  327 

"You  remember  what  the  song  was  ?" 

"  The  first  was— " 

"Stop!"  interrupted  the  judge,  quickly.  "Wi'ite 
down  the  name  and  send  it  up  to  me. " 

While  the  witness  proceeded  to  do  as  he  was  desired, 
a  movement  rose  and  spread  in  the  court.  It  was  arrest- 
ed immediately  when  the  judge,  after  reading  the  paper 
handed  up  from  the  witness,  said  to  the  prisoner, 

' '  Can  you  tell  the  court  what  you  sang  that  day  ?" 

"I  sang  first  a  Russian  ballad,  and  then  '  Mignon's 
Lament.'"  Narka's  countenance,  for  all  her  self-con- 
trol, showed  plainly  with  what  intense  anxiety  she  was 
waiting  to  hear  whether  the  testimony  of  the  detective 
would  coi-roborate  this  answer.  The  court  too  was  hush- 
ed in  breathless  expectation. 

"  The  witness,"  said  the  judge,  "  has  written,  '  A  song 
in  a  language  I  did  not  undei'stand,  and  then  a  song  in 
French  that  ended,  at  every  verse,  Laissez-moi  mourir.-'''' 

A  perfect  shout  of  exultation  rose  from  every  part  of 
the  hall.  Narka  flushed  crimson,  and  then  grew  very 
white ;  she  was  agitated  almost  beyond  the  power  of  self- 
control. 

The  prisoner's  counsel  now  followed  with  his  plea, 
and  then  the  jury  retired  to  consider  the  verdict. 

They  returned  in  ten  minutes  with  a  verdict  of  ac- 
quittal. 


328  Karka. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Ivan  Gorff  had  deemed  it  more  prudent,  both  for 
Narka  and  for  himself,  not  to  be  present  at  the  trial, 
where  there  was  sure  to  be  a  large  contingent  of  Russian 
spies  as  well  as  French  detectives.  But  when  the  day 
of  tlie  trial  came  he  found  it  hard  to  keep  away.  The 
suspense  and  anxiety  were  almost  unbearable.  It  was 
not  possible  to  stay  quietly  in-doors,  so  he  went  out  and 
walked  about  the  streets  like  a  troubled  spirit,  going 
from  one  haunt  to  another,  as  if  something  unexpected 
might  turn  up  to  help  Narka,  or  throw  light  on  the 
unknown  authors  of  her  arrest.  The  more  he  thought 
of  it,  the  stronger  grew  his  fear  that  Schenk  had  be- 
trayed her.  The  idea,  which  had  at  first  been  repulsed 
as  a  groundless  suspicion,  took  shape  when  he  found 
that  Schenk  had  left  town  the  day  before  the  arrest ;  and 
then,  as  the  days  went  by,  and  he  neither  came  nor 
wrote,  suspicion  grew  and  hardened  into  conviction. 
Ivan  had  quickly  detected  the  German's  passion  for  Nar- 
ka, and  shi'ewdly  suspected  that  Schenk  had  declared  it, 
and  if  so,  he  had  of  course  been  scornfully  rejected. 
As  Ivan  paced  the  streets  he  pictured  to  himself  the 
scene :  Narka  startled  into  indignant  surprise,  answering 
him  with  two  flashes  of  lightning  from  her  dark  eyes, 
and  Schenk,  goaded  out  of  his  cold-blooded  sleekness, 
pressing  his  suit ;  then  perhaps  threatening — for  she  was 
in  his  power  to  an  extent.  Ivan's  blue  eyes  scintillated 
with  inextinguishable  laughter  as  he  clinched  his  hands, 
swinging  heavily  by  his  side,  and  tramped  on.  Partly 
drawn  by  these  cogitations,  and  partly  obeying  the  blind 


ITarha.  329 

impulse  that  prompted  him  to  pursue  his  aimless  march, 
he  walked  on  to  La  Villette  and  to  Narka's  house.  The 
place  looked  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened;  she  might 
have  been  sitting  inside  at  her  work;  the  door  on  the 
street  stood  open  as  usual.  Ivan  stepped  in.  It-  was 
dark  in  the  narrow  entry  after  the  brilliant  sunshine, 
but  there  was  light  enough  for  him  to  see  a  man  stand- 
ing at  the  door  of  the  landlady's  rooms,  opposite  to  Nar- 
ka's, as  if  waiting  to  be  let  in.  Ivan  at  a  glance  recog- 
nized Schenk. 

The  two  were  equally  surprised  to  meet. 

"Oh,  it  is  you!"  said  Schenk,  coming  forward,  and 
he  held  out  his  hand. 

Ivan  fell  back  a  step.  "  How  much  money  did  they 
give  you  for  it  ?"  he  said,  hissing  out  the  woi'ds  between 
his  teeth. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Schenk. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.  How  much  did  they  give 
you  for  selling  Narka  Larik  to  the  police  here  ?" 

"  Look  here,"  said  Schenk,  and  he  came  a  step  nearer, 
fixing  his  green  eyes  on  Ivan's,  that  were  blazing  like 
a  tiger's;  "  take  back  that  lie,  or  I'll  knock  it  down  your 
throat!'' 

Ivan  clinched  his  hand,  and  hit  out  at  him;  but 
Schenk,  stepping  aside  in  time,  avoided  the  blow,  and 
Ivan  struck  the  wall  with  his  might,  breaking  his 
knuckles  with  the  violence  of  the  collision.  The  pain 
blinded  and  maddened  him  for  a  moment,  and  before  he 
had  recovered  his  senses  Schenk  drew  his  cane-sword 
and  ran  him  through  the  body.  Ivan  staggered,  and 
then  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 

Schenk  knelt  down,  Aviped  his  blade  carefully  in  his 
victim's  coat,  slipped  it  back  into  the  cane,  and  walked 
away. 


330  Karka. 

Nobody  passed  through  the  entry  for  nearly  an  hour. 
Then  a  lace-mender  who  lived  on  the  fifth  story  came 
down,  and  hurrying  out,  knocked  lier  foot  against  the 
prostrate  body.  Her  scream  brought  in  a  woman  who 
was  passing. 

"A  man  murdered !"  exclaimed  the  two,  peering  down 
at  the  white  face,  and  then  at  the  pools  of  blood  around. 

In  five  minutes  a  crowd  had  collected ;  in  five  more 
the  commissary  of  police  was  there,  taking  down  the 
proces-verhal.  Before  he  had  finished,  the  doctor  ar- 
rived. 

"Life  is  not  extinct,"  said  the  medical  man,  after  put- 
ting his  ear  to  Ivan's  heart.  "  Is  there  a  room  where  he 
could  be  taken,  close  by,  here  on  the  ground-floor  ?" 

Some  one  ran  to  the  concierge  and  got  the  key  of  Nar- 
ka's  door,  and  Ivan  was  lifted  in  and  laid  upon  the 
bed.  Then  restoratives  were  quickly  applied  and  the 
wound  was  attended  to.  Gradually  consciousness  re- 
turned. Ivan  carried  his  blank  gaze  round  the  room, 
and  began  to  realize  where  he  was.  "Have  they  con- 
demned her  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Ah!  it  was,  then,  a  woman  ?"  said  the  commissary, 
and  out  came  his  pencil  to  add  this  point  to  the  proces- 
verhal.  ' '  Do  you  know  her  ?  Could  you  identify  her  ?" 
Then,  as  Ivan  only  stared  at  him  vacantly,  "The  wo- 
man who  stabbed  you,"  he  explained.  "Try  and  re- 
member. We  found  you  lying  in  the  entry  badly 
wounded.     Do  you  know  who  stabbed  you  ?" 

But  the  wounded  man  turned  his  head  away  and 
moaned  impatiently.  At  a  sign  from  the  doctor  the 
commissary  collapsed. 

"  He  is  too  weak ;  he  has  lost  a  deal  of  blood.  I  must 
go  down  to  the  sisters  and  get  some  one  to  come  up  and 
attend  to  him,"  said  the  medical  man. 


JVarka.  331 

"Soeur  Marguerite,"  Ivan  said,  with  an  effort;  "tell 
Sceur  Marguerite  to  come  to  me." 

Everybody  at  La  Villette  knew  that  Soeur  Margue- 
rite was  away  at  the  trial. 

"I  will  ask  for  Soeur  Marguerite,"  replied  the  doctor; 
"but  she  may  not  be  in  the  way;  I  must  take  whoever 
is." 

"No,  no;  Soeur  Marguerite,"  Ivan  insisted.  "If  she 
is  still  in  the  court,  send  and  say  I  want  to  see  her;  I 
have  something  to  say,  and  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  Be 
quick!" 

The  commissary,  guessing  that  the  something  was 
connected  with  this  attempt  on  his  life,  hurried  out  and 
called  a  cab,  and  drove  to  the  court,  where,  as  we  know, 
he  found  Marguerite,  and  took  her  back  with  him.  The 
errand  had  been  done  with  great  haste,  but  Ivan's  fe- 
vei'ish  impatience  had  found  the  time  never-ending. 

"Ah  !  you  are  come — thank  God  !"  he  exclaimed,  the 
moment  she  appeared.  "Get  a  pencil,  and  wi*ite  what 
I  am  going  to  tell  you." 

' '  But  you  are  too  weak ;  I  had  better  wait, "  she  urged, 
gently. 

"No,  no  ;  there  is  no  time.  I  have  strength  enough, 
if  only  there  be  time.     Write." 

Mai'guerite  drew  her  big  pocket-book  from  her  sleeve, 
and  held  her  pencil  ready. 

"You  remember  that  All-souls  Eve  at  Yrakow?" 
Ivan  began.  "My  sister  Sophie  was  coming  through 
the  wood  in  the  afternoon.  She  met  Larchoff.  He 
stopped  her,  and — "  A  spasm  passed  over  Ivan's  face; 
he  struggled  for  a  moment  with  some  violent  pain  or 
emotion,  and  having  mastered  it,  went  on  :  "  She  es- 
caped from  him I  saw  her  flying  across  the  road 

toward  our  gate;  she  was  half  mad ....  I  went  straight 


332  Narha. 

into  the  sacristy,  and  took  Father  Christopher's  gun  .... 
I  knew  where  he  kept  it,  and  I  knew  it  was  loaded ....  I 
hurried  back  to  the  forest,  and  overtook  Larchoff,  and 
shot  him." 

Marguerite  uttered  a  cry,  and  dropped  the  pencil ;  she 
picked  it  up,  and  Ivan  continued : 

"  As  God  hears  me,  my  first  thought  was  for  Sophie. 
I  wanted  to  screen  her;  if  it  was  known  I  had  killed 
Larchoff,  it  -would  have  led  to  suspicion ....  After  I 
fired  the  shot, Father  Christopher  passed;  he  was  hurry- 
ing through  the  wood  to  get  back  to  the  confessional ;  I 
thought  he  might  have  seen  me,  and  if  he  had,  I  knew  he 
would  suspect  me.  I  went  on  to  the  sacristy,  and  put 
back  the  gun  where  I  had  found  it.  And  then — oh,  my 
God,  how  shall  I  tell  it !— then  I  went  into  the  chapel, 
and  knelt  down  in  the  confessional  and  confessed  the 
murder.  Then  I  was  safe.  I  knew  that  this  sealed 
his  lips — that  he  must  let  himself  be  put  to  death  rather 
than  utter  a  word  that  might  incriminate  me,  and  betray 
the  secret  of  the  confessional ....  The  next  day  I  went 
into  X and  denounced  him  as  the  murderer." 

Marguerite  could  bear  no  more ;  she  burst  into  tears, 
overcome  with  horror  and  compassion. 

"Ah!  I  have  suffered  for  my  crime!"  Ivan  went  on; 
"ay, the  torments  of  the  damned. ...  It  so  chanced — 
God  in  His  judgment  so  decreed — that  I  was  passing 
when  the  police  were  carrying  him  away ....  I  saw  him 
driven  on  between  the  two  policemen.  Oh,  my  God ! 
my  God!  the  look  he  gave  me! ...  it  has  haunted  me 
like  a  dead  man's  eye....  I  felt  sure  at  first  that  the 
Prince  would  have  obtained  his  release;  when  that  fail- 
ed, I  did  what  I  could ....  I  spent  my  whole  fortune  try- 
ing to  purchase  his  escape,  to  bribe  the  jailers,  trying  to 
get  alleviations  for  him.     I  have  lived  in  ijoverty. . .. 


JVarka.  333 

my  life  has  been,  a  hell  of  remorse ....  And  now  I  am 
dying  accursed  and  unforgiven,  murdered  myself .... 
It  is  just!  it  is  just!" 

Marguerite  dropped  on  her  knees,  shaken  to  her  soul 
with  pity  for  the  miserable  man  who  had  sinned  and 
suffered  so  terribly.  But  her  strong  sense  and  habit  of 
self-restraint  quickly  brought  her  back  to  the  practical 
question  of  how  to  make  this  confession  available  for 
Father  Christopher.  She  had  presence  of  mind  enough 
to  remember  that  either  it  must  be  made  verbally  before 
another  witness,  or  Ivan  must  sign  what  she  had  written 
in  presence  of  a  witness. 

"Is  it  any  good  my  confessing  now?"  said  Ivan,  as 
if  he  guessed  what  was  in  her  mind.  "Will  it  help 
to  set  Father  Christopher  free,  do  you  think  ?  If  it  did, 
if  I  knew  that  before  I  died,  it  would  make  hell  less  hoi'- 
rible  to  me." 

"I  have  not  a  doubt,"  replied  Marguerite,  "but  that 
as  soon  as  your  statement  is  known  to  the  authorities, 
they  will  liberate  him  at  once;  but  you  will  have  to 
repeat  the  confession,  or  else  sign  it  in  the  presence  of 
another  person.     May  I  send  for  the  commissary  ?" 

"Yes,  yes;  send  for  as  many  as  will  come.  I  will 
swear  before  the  whole  world  that  I  committed  the  mur- 
der, and  confessed  it  to  Father  Christopher." 

Marguerite  went  out,  intending  to  send  for  the  com- 
missary. She  found  him  in  the  entry,  surrounded  by 
the  cure,  the  doctor,  several  police-officers,  and  others 
who  had  been  attracted  by  the  news  of  the  murder.  She 
told  rapidly  what  had  happened,  and  when  the  commis- 
sary, accompanied  by  the  cure  and  the  doctor,  came  in. 
Marguerite  read  aloud  what  she  had  written,  and  then 
asked  Ivan  if  it  was  correct,  and  if  he  would  swear  to  the 
truth  of  the  story. 


334  Narka. 

"  Yes,  I  swear,  as  a  dying  man,  that  wliat  you  have 
written  is  true.  So  help  me  God!  Get  me  up  that  I 
may  sign  it." 

They  lifted  him,  and  put  the  pen  in  his  hand,  and  he 
wrote  his  name;  tlie  others  then  added  their  signatures. 
The  commissary  was  putting  away  the  pen,  when  Ivan 
made  a  sign  that  he  wanted  it  again.  They  gave  it  to 
him,  and  he  clutched  it  fondly.  It  was  Narka's  pen. 
He  remembered  seeing  it  on  her  little  writing-table. 

"  What  have  they  done  to  her?"  he  asked — "to  Nar- 
ka  Larik;  what  is  the  sentence  V 

"She  is  acquitted  on  all  points,"  replied  the  com- 
missary, who  had  heard  it  from  a  police-officer  just  come 
from  the  court. 

"  Thank  God!"  muttered  Ivan,  and  his  face  brighten- 
ed; then,  changing  suddenly,  a  look  of  hungry,  wolfish 
hate  came  over  it.  "Now  let  them  catch  Schenk,"  he 
said.  "It  was  Schenk's  doing — it  was  Schenk  that 
stabbed  me.  I  would  die  easy  if  I  knew  they  would 
hang  him!" 

He  fell  back  exhausted  on  the  pillow. 


Narka.  335 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  verdict  of  acquittal  was  received  with  loud  and 
general  applause,  the  Villette  element  making  itself  con- 
spicuous in  the  chorus  by  yells  of  triumph,  which  might 
have  easily  been  mistaken  for  howls  of  rage.  When  M. 
de  Beaucrillon  and  Sibyl  led  Narka  out  of  the  court,  half 
fainting,  she  hardly  knew  where  she  was  going,  and  al- 
lowed herself  to  be  assisted  into  the  carriage  without 
asking  where  they  were  taking  her.  It  was  only  when 
she  found  herself  before  the  steps  of  Sibyl's  house 
that  she  realized  where  she  was.  It  was  then  too  late 
to  protest,  even  if  she  had  had  strength  to  do  it. 

Sibyl  took  her  upstairs,  and  put  her  to  bed;  she  was 
kind  and  tender  as  a  sister;  and  Narka,  worn  out  in 
mind  and  body,  submitted  unresistingly  to  the  soft  min- 
istrations. She  was  thankful  to  be  at  rest.  She  slept 
through  the  night  from  sheer  exhaustion.  Sibyl  would 
have  her  lie  in  bed  next  morning;  she  foi-bade  her  to 
get  up  till  the  afternoon,  and  gave  orders  that  Mile.  Nar- 
ka was  not  to  be  disturbed,  even  if  Soeur  Marguerite 
came. 

Immediately  after  the  second  breakfast  Sibyl  went  out 
with  Gaston.  They  wei'e  both  anxious  to  see  Margue- 
rite, and  learn  the  cause  of  her  mysterious  summons 
from  court  the  day  before.  The  moment  they  were 
gone,  Narka  rose  and  dressed  herself,  and  slipped  down 
to  the  boudoir.  She  could  not  lie  quiet  in  bed,  when 
Basil  might  arrive  at  any  moment  and  call  for  her.  She 
had  not  been  long  in  the  boudoir  when  a  carriage  drove 


336  JSfarka. 

into  the  court.  It  might  be  Basil !  Narka  started  up 
and  went  to  the  window.  A  coupe  was  drawn  up  before 
the  steps;  the  hall  porter  was  parleying  with  some  one 
inside.  Presently  he  opened  the  carriage  door  and  as- 
sisted a  lady  to  alight.  Narka  recognized  Marie  Krin- 
sky.  The  thought  of  meeting  this  girl,  who  loved  Basil, 
who  had  been  her  rival,  would  have  been  intolerable ; 
but  it  did  not  occur  to  her  that  Marie  was  coming  up- 
stairs: she  was,  no  doubt,  going  to  wait  in  the  drawing- 
room,  or  perhaps  to  write  a  note  in  the  library.  It  was 
only  when  the  sound  of  silk  rustling  on  the  landing  be- 
came audible  that  Narka  knew  the  young  Princess  was 
going  to  appear.  She  glanced  round  for  a  way  of  es- 
cape. There  was  a  panelled  door  that  opened  into  a 
tiny  closet,  a  sort  of  debarras  where  the  tea-table,  etc., 
were  kept.  There  was  just  time  to  spring  across  the 
room  and  open  this  door  and  draw  it  after  her,  without 
daring  to  shut  it,  when  Marie  entered. 

"You  will  find  everything  here,  Princess,"  said  the 
servant,  and  soon  the  click  of  an  opened  inkstand,  and 
then  the  noise  of  a  pen  scratching  the  paper,  announced 
that  Marie  was  writing. 

The  time  seemed  long  to  Narka,  but  in  reality  ten 
minutes  had  not  elapsed  when  Marie  stai-ted  up,  ex- 
claiming: "Soeur  Marguerite!  I  am  so  glad!  I  was 
writing  a  line  for  Madame  de  Beaucrillon.  We  only 
returned  fi*om  Fontainebleau  last  night.  You  were  at 
the  trial ;  tell  me  about  it.  Was  Narka  Larik  guilty  ? 
Did  she  conspire  against  the  life  of  the  Emperor  ?" 

Marguerite  lifted  her  eyebrows.  "Why,  did  you  not 
read  the  trial  ?  It  is  all  in  this  morning's  newspapers. 
She  was  completely  acquitted." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that.  M.  de  Beaucrillon  is  rich  enough 
to  buy  up  the  jury.     And  he  was  quite  right  to  do  it ; 


Narka.  337 

but  is  she  guilty  ?  Is  she  the  dreadful  woman  they  say  ? 
I  so  want  to  know  the  truth."  She  spoke  earnestly, 
nervously. 

"  Narka  is  no  more  guilty  than  I  am,"  said  Margue- 
rite, with  the  warmth  of  conviction.  "She  is  a  noble 
woman,  and  she  has  suffered  cruelly." 

"Ah!  But  now  they  say —  Is  it  true,  this  story  of 
Prince  Basil's  being  in  love  with  her  and  wanting  to 
mari'y  her  V 

"Yes,  it  is  quite  true." 

Marie  grew  pale,  and  Marguerite  saw  that  the  woi'ds 
had  cut  into  her  like  a  knife.  Poor  child!  So  she 
was  to  be  a  victim,  through  no  fault  of  her  own.  She 
looked  as  if  a  touch  would  have  overthrown  her  cour- 
age ;  but  she  struggled  bravely,  and  kept  up. 

"I  am  glad  she  is  good,  since  he  is  going  to  marry 
her,"  she  said;  "it  would  have  been  dreadful  for  Ma- 
dame de  Beaucrillon ;  and  I  should  have  been  sorry  for 
her  brother,  who — " 

Marie  stopped  short,  blushed  violently,  and  then  grew 
white,  and  an  expression  between  terror  and  defiance 
came  into  her  eyes.  Marguerite  turned  to  see  what  had 
wx'ought  the  sudden  change,  and  saw  a  gentleman  ad- 
vancing quickly  toward  the  open  door  of  the  boudoir; 
he  was  unkempt  and  travel-stained,  like  one  come  off 
a  journey ;  but  Marguerite  recognized  Basil  at  a  glance. 
He  went  straight  up  to  her,  and  took  her  hand  and  raised 
it  to  his  lips ;  he  did  not  say  a  word,  but  his  face,  his 
whole  manner,  were  eloquent  with  feeling.  Suddenly, 
as  if  he  had  not  noticed  the  presence  of  the  young  Prin- 
cess, he  made  her  a  low  bow.    Marie  took  up  her  parasol. 

"  I  am  not  sending  you  away,  I  hope,  Princess,"  said 
Basil. 

"  No;  I  was  going."  She  shook  hands  with  Margue- 
2a 


338  Narka. 

rite,  and  then,  looking  Basil  steadily  in  the  face,  ' '  I  am 
glad  to  be  one  of  the  first  to  congratulate  you  on  your 
approaching  marriage.  Prince,"  she  said.  He  read  in- 
solent contempt  in  her  glance ;  but  it  was  the  defiance  of 
desperation. 

"Thank  you,  Princess,"  he  replied,  and  held  back 
the  portiere  with  an  ostentatious  pretence  of  making 
wider  room  for  her  exit. 

The  girl's  retreating  footsteps  made  no  sound  on  the 
soft  carpet,  and  Narka  did  not  know  she  had  left  the 
room  when  Basil  spoke : 

"  Sibyl  is  out  ?" 

"Yes;  I  believe  she  is  gone  to  La  Villette,"  Margue- 
rite replied,  and  she  laid  on  the  table  a  parcel  that  she 
took  out  of  a  basket  on  her  arm.  There  was  nothing 
so  far  to  inform  Narka  that  Marie  was  not  still  present. 
Marguerite  looked  tired,  and  Basil  thought  agitated ;  she 
sat  down  and  with  a  certain  hesitation  in  her  manner, 
"A  dreadful  thing  has  happened,"  she  said;  "Ivan 
Gorff  was  stabbed  yesterday  during  the  trial." 

' '  Good  God !     Ivan !     By  whom  ?" 

*'By  a  man  named  Schenk." 

' '  Schenk !"  Basil  repeated,  aghast.  ' '  My  God !  And 
is  Ivan  dead  V 

"  He  is  dying.  He  sent  for  me  to  make  a  confession 
— a  terrible  confession."  Narka  held  her  breath,  while 
Marguerite  paused,  as  if  the  words  were  hard  to  speak. 
Then,  almost  in  a  whisper,  ''It  was  Ivan  who  murdered 
Larchoffr 

Basil's  vehement  exclamation  covered  another  sound 
that  came  at  the  same  moment  from  the  wall  behind 
him.  He  dropped  into  a  chair,  too  stunned  to  utter  a 
word.  Narka  felt  sure  they  were  alone  now;  but  she 
also  was  too  stunned  to  speak  or  move ;  her  heart  gave 


JSfarka.  339 

a  great  leap,  and  then  sank;  she  felt  sick  and  faint,  but 
she  remained  motionless,  rooted  to  the  grolind. 

"  Marguerite,"  Basil  said, "  if  you  knew  what  this  rev- 
elation is  to  me !" 

"I  do  know,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  and  her 
lids  fell. 

Basil  stood  up.     ' '  You  suspected  me  of  the  murder  ?" 
"  I  thought  you  had  done  it  accidentally," 
* '  And  you  kept  my  secret !  Marguei-ite ! — Mai'guerite !" 
Before  she  could  start  up  or  prevent  him,  he  had 
fallen  down  befoi-e  her,  and  was  sobbing  with  his  head 
upon  her  knees.     Marguerite  was  too  frightened  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  action  and  by  the  violence  of  his 
emotion  to  know  what  to  do;  but  Basil  mastered  the 
paroxysm  quickly,  and  stood  up,  and  then  sat  down  be- 
side her. 

Narka  had  by  this  time  regained  her  self-possession, 
but  she  had  no  longer  the  courage  to  come  out  of  her 
hiding-place.  She  had  first  listened  involuntarily  to  the 
dialogue,  and  now  she  could  not  show  herself ;  it  was  too 
late.  She  heard  Basil  sobbing,  and  she  guessed,  more  by 
instinct  than  by  sound,  that  he  had  fallen  down  at  Mar- 
guerite's feet ;  if  her  life  had  depended  on  it,  she  could 
not  have  pushed  open  the  door  and  looked  at  him  there, 
"Yes,"  he  went  on,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "I 
thought  I  had  shot  him ;  but  I  was  not  certain.  When 
Father  Christopher  was  arrested  I  knew  it  was  too  late  to 
accuse  myself;  the  police  had  fastened  the  crime  on  him. 
The  only  thing  I  could  do  was  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg 
and  sue  for  his  release.  I  came  away,  believing  he  was 
to  be  set  free  the  next  day.  Did  Ivan  tell  you  why  he 
murdered  Larchoff  ?" 

"Yes;  he  confessed  everything.     It  was  a  terrible 
story."     And  she  repeated  it  as  Ivan  had  told  it. 


340  Narka. 

"  My  God !  how  liorrible !"  Basil  rose  and  walked  the 
length  of  the-  room ;  then  he  sat  down  near  Marguerite 
again,  and  speaking  deliberately,  but  like  a  man  who  was 
constrained  to  give  utterance  to  something  that  would 
not  be  held  back,  "  I  too  have  a  confession  to  make,"  he 
said:  "that  murder  changed  my  whole  destiny — per- 
haps, I  had  set  my  heart  on  making  you  my  wife. 
There  was  an  end  of  that  hope  the  moment  I  felt  there 
was  blood  upon  my  hands ;  but  I  loved  you  as  I  have 
never  loved  any  other  woman." 

Both  were  too  absorbed  to  notice  the  dull  sound  of 
something  falling  heavily  to  the  ground  close  by. 

"Oh,  Basil!  and  Narka?"  Marguerite  said,  in  a  tone 
of  pained  reproach.      "  You  love  Narka  ?" 

"Yes,  I  love  Narka,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  make 
her  happy.  I  will  be  a  good  husband  to  her;  she  shall 
miss  nothing;  but  my  love  for  you  was  a  unique  thing 
in  my  life." 

The  moment  was  too  solemn,  Basil  himself  was  too 
free  from  self-consciousness,  for  the  strange  avowal  to 
make  Marguerite  feel  shy,  to  cause  her  any  embarrass- 
ment. It  was  a  startling  confession  for  her  to  listen 
to;  but  it  told  her  nothing  she  had  not  known  before. 
She  knew  perfectly  well  that  night  at  Yrakow  that  the 
course  of  her  destiny  was  suddenly  changed.  It  was 
all  like  a  dream.  She  looked  back  to  the  dream  now, 
and  saw  spread  out  befox'e  her,  like  a  landscape  seen 
in  a  looking-glass,  the  life  that  might  have  been  a  pan- 
orama of  golden  days  crowned  with  honors  and  de- 
lights ;  but  the  vision  stirred  no  shadow  of  regret  in  her 
heart,  nor  did  it  move  her  will  to  a  momentary  recoil 
from  the  part  that  she  had  chosen.  Far  from  it.  She 
rejoiced  that  her  present  lot  was  beyond  the  reach  of 
change.     With  an  almost  involuntary  movement  she 


JVarka.  341 

felt  for  her  crucifix,  and  closed  her  hand  upon  it,  silent- 
ly renewing  her  self-consecration. 

Basil  too  had  been  carried  back  to  the  past,  but  not 
with  the  same  glad  assent  in  its  renunciations.  "  My 
God !"  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  passionate  feeling, 
"it  is  as  if  a  reprieve  had  suddenly  come  to  me,  after 
being  under  sentence  of  condemnation  all  these  years!'' 

"Thank  God!"  Marguerite  exclaimed,  fervently. 
"  And  now  you  will  give  up  once  and  forever  these  wild 
and  wicked  theories  that  have  led  you  and  Narka  into 
such  trouble  ?  God  has  been  very  good  to  you,  and  you 
owe  Him  a  return.  You  have  now  an  opportunity  of 
redeeming  the  past;  you  must  begin  from  this  out  to 
lead  a  noble  and  useful  life;  you  must  break  off  with 
conspiracy  and  revolution,  and  work  for  your  country 
in  wiser  and  better  ways.     Promise  me  that  you  will." 

Basil  fell  back  and  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 
"  If  I  had  only  myself  to  think  of, "  he  said,  after  a  pause ; 
"but  I  have  contracted  engagements  that  it  would  not 
be  honorable  to  break ;  it  would  be  cowardly  to  abandon 
those  who  are  risking,  and  who  will  go  on  to  the  bitter 
end  risking,  their  lives  for  the  sake  of  overthrowing 
tyrants." 

"That  is  just  nonsense — rank  nonsense!"  protested 
Marguerite,  with  her  old  impulsive  manner.  "They 
will  never  overthrow  anybody  but  themselves.  I  know 
them  well — a  set  of  hot-headed  fools  and  fanatics !  I  see 
them  every  day,  and  I  hear  the  wild  nonsense  they  talk. 
But  what  is  excusable  in  many  of  them  is  downright 
criminal  in  you;  and  your  example  would  give  many 
of  them  the  courage  and  the  excuse  to  give  up  the 
whole  thing — be  sure  of  that.  There  are  very  few  in 
Russia,  I  dare  say,  as  in  France,  who  after  a  while  do  not 
see  the  madness  of  the  work  they  have  embarked  in,  and 


342  JVarka. 

who  would  not  gladly  get  out  of  it  if  they  could.  Be- 
sides, you  are  not  worth  so  much  to  them;  you  will 
never  go  far  enough  to  do  the  work  they  want;  you 
think  that  talking  and  writing  and  stirring  up  passion- 
ate desires  for  liberty  is  doing  a  grand  thing;  but  they 
want  it  to  lead  to  action,  that  is,  to  assassination,  to 
wholesale  murder.  You  will  never  lend  your  hand  to 
that;  you  will  only  go  far  enough  to  ruin  yourself, with- 
out satisfying  them.  Give  it  all  up.  Oh,  Basil !  for 
Heaven's  sake  give  it  up,  and  begin  to  lead  an  honor- 
able, useful  life.  Narka  will  make  it  a  happy  life  for 
you.  She  will  be  as  noble  and  loyal  and  loving  a  wife 
as  any  man  was  ever  blest  with.  Think,  too,  of  ail 
that  she  has  suffered  for  your  sake!  All  but  death. 
Yes,  that  time  in  the  fortress  was  worse  than  death. 
Make  it  up  to  her  now,  and  guard  her,  at  any  rate  in 
the  f  utui'e,  from  those  horrors  that  she  has  gone  through 
in  the  past.  She  was  very  near  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  torturers  again.  It  was  almost  a  miracle  that 
she  escaped  being  given  over  to  the  Russian  authorities. 
A  man  whom  we  had  helped  in  trouble  waylaid  the 
policeman  and  rescued  this,"  Marguerite  continued, 
taking  the  casket  from  the  table. 

"Do  you  know  what  is  in  it?''  Basil  asked,  as  he 
took  it  in  his  hand  and  tore  off  the  paper  that  covered  it. 

"  The  papers  you  gave  her  to  keep,  and  those  revolu- 
tionary articles  of  youi's  that  Ivan  Gorff  gave  her  to 
translate." 

"Good  heavens!"  Basil  exclaimed,  greatly  excited. 
The  sight  of  that  ivory  box  brought  back  his  boyhood 
to  him;  he  remembered  the  morning  he  gave  it  to  Narka 
full  of  sweetmeats  for  her  birthday;  he  kept  turning 
it  round  and  examining  it  to  conceal  his  emotion.  "My 
poor  Narka!"  he  murmured. 


JVarka.  343 

"You  will  make  it  all  up  to  her  now;  promise  me 
you  will  ?"  Marguerite  pleaded.  "You  will  give  up  con- 
spiracy?" 

Basil  did  not  answer.  He  was  moved  to  his  centre, 
but  his  will  was  torn  in  opposite  directions — pity  and 
tenderness  for  Narka  drew  him  one  way ;  what  he  called 
honor  drew  him  another. 

"Basil,"  Marguerite  said,  and  the  blood  mounted  to 
her  cheek,  and  her  voice  trembled,  "you  say  that  you 
cared  for  me  once;  for  the  sake  of  that  old  atfection,  to 
prove  to  me  that  it  was  something  deeper  and  better 
than  a  passing  fancy,  promise  me  what  I  ask  you.  I 
ask  it  in  the  name  of  God,  of  your  mother,  of  all  that 
you  ever  held  sacred!"  Her  voice  broke  a  little,  and 
her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

Still  Basil  hesitated,  but  it  was  only  because  he  was 
struggling  with  the  emotion  that  choked  him.  "I 
promise  you,"  he  answered. 

After  a  pause  Marguerite  said,  "Now  all  our  prayer 
must  be  that  the  reprieve  may  reach  Father  Christopher 
in  time." 

She  staid  on  a  few  minutes,  asking  questions  about 
the  distance  to  Irkoutsk,  calculating  the  chances  and 
perils  that  must  be  reckoned  with  on  the  way  home- 
ward.    Then  she  rose  to  go. 

"  You  won't  wait  to  see  Narka?"  Basil  said. 

' '  No ;  she  is  perhaps  asleep,  or  at  any  rate  she  is  rest- 
ing. You  will  tell  her  about  Ivan ;  his  confession  will 
be  an  immense  i-elief  to  her;  but  the  rest  will  be  a  great 
shock.     She  will  be  horrified  too  to  hear  about  Schenk." 

Basil  accompanied  Marguerite  down-stairs.  In  the 
hall  he  said:  "I  wonder  would  they  let  me  see  Ivan? 
Could  you  get  me  into  the  prison  ?  I  should  like  to  see 
him  once." 


344  Narka. 

"  Oh  yes,  do  go  and  see  him;  I  am  sure  it  will  be  a 
consolation  to  the  poor  fellow.  Go  to-morrow  morning 
and  ask  for  Soeur  Jeanne ;  or,  stay,  if  you  go  there  now 
you  will  find  her.  Say  that  you  have  a  message  to  her 
from  Soeur  Marguerite,  and  the  porter  will  let  you  in." 

"  I  will  go  at  once,"  said  Basil ;  "and  by  the  time  I  get 
back  Nai'ka  will  probably  be  up,  and  able  to  see  me." 
He  stood  and  watched  Mai-guerite  till  she  crossed  the 
court  and  disappeared.  Then  he  went  out  and  called  a 
cab,  and  drove  to  the  prison. 

As  Marguerite  walked  rapidly  homeward  she  felt 
neai'er  to  perfect  happiness  than  she  had  ever  done  be- 
fore in  her  innocent,  happy  life.  The  windows  of  the 
world  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly  thrown  wide  open, 
and  fresh  air  from  heaven  let  in  to  blow  about  her 
face.  Her  heart  was  so  merry  that  she  could  have  sung 
for  gladness.  All  the  wrong  things  were  coming  right. 
If  only  La  Villette  would  cast  out  its  heart  of  rage! 
Marguerite  kept  her  hand  upon  that  angry  heart  as  a 
sick-nurse  feels  the  pulse  of  a  patient;  le pauvre peuple 
was  her  sick  child ;  she  kept  feeling  its  i)ulse,  and  the 
quick  irregular  beats  made  her  anxious;  there  was  fever 
still  in  the  hot  blood,  the  incoherent  I'aviugs  of  delii-ium 
were  still  audible  in  resentful  mutterings.  The  demon 
was  not  yet  exorcised.  Vengeance  and  hate  possessed 
the  people,  and  desperate  longings  to  set  free  the  rioters 
who  were  in  prison,  and  wild,  dark  schemes  to  do  it  at 
any  cost  of  life  to  those  who,  not  being  with  them, 
were  against  them. 

"  If  only  I  might  die  for  them !"  she  murmured  in  her 
heart,  with  a  sinking  of  despair.  But  then  she  thouglit 
of  Father  Christopher,  and  of  Basil  and  Narka,  and  how 
all  the  wrong  things  were  coming  right  at  last,  and  she 
trusted  and  rejoiced. 


A^ar/ca,  345 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

Narka  lay  motionless,  crouching  in  a  heap  on  the 
ground,  for  some  minutes  after  Basil  and  Marguerite  had 
left  the  room.  At  last  the  silence  assured  her  that  they 
had  gone.  She  rose  to  her  knees  and  dragged  herself 
up,  and  opened  the  door  cautiously ;  there  were  the  two 
chairs  that  Marguerite  and  Basil  had  been  sitting  in; 
they  seemed  to  hold  them  still ;  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place  was  suffocating.  Narka  felt  she  must  get  out  of  it 
to  breathe ;  she  made  her  way  up  to  her  own  room,  and 
sat  down  and  tried  to  think  what  had  happened  since 
she  had  left  it,  only  an  hour  ago.  The  whole  world  was 
changed  to  her,  and  yet  in  reality  those  words  of  Basil's 
which  had  flung  her  down  as  if  stricken  with  paralysis 
had  told  her  nothing  new ;  she  was  conscious  of  having 
known  all  along  that  in  those  early  days  at  Yrakow  he 
had  been  in  love  with  Marguerite,  and  on  the  night  of 
the  murder  Marguerite  had  betrayed  the  secret  of  her 
love  for  him.  But  then  had  come  the  warrant  and  the 
ransom,  and  his  declaration  to  herself;  and  what  waves 
of  passionate  love  and  trust  had  swept  over  their  lives 
since  then,  obliterating  the  very  trace  of  those  early 
jealousies  and  uncertainties ! 

Narka  was  not  so  simple  as  to  suppose  that  a  man's 
love  was  not  to  be  trusted  because  the  virgin  vintage 
of  his  heart  had  been  thrown  into  the  wine-press  for 
another  woman's  feet  to  tread.  She  would  not  have 
felt  a  pang  of  jealousy  or  resentment  if  Basil  had  himself 
confessed  to  her  that  he  had  loved  Marguerite  first ;  but 


346  Narka. 

that  he  should  never  have  said  a  word  to  her,  and  should 
now  confess  it  to  Marguerite — this  stung  her  to  the 
quick,  and  struck  at  the  root  of  all  belief  in  his  love. 

"  If  he  loved  me,"  she  repeated  to  herself,  "he  would 
have  been  compelled  by  the  very  force  of  his  love  to  tell 
me ;  he  could  not  have  kept  it  a  secret. " 

And  she  was  right.  For  though  we  may  sometimes 
wholly  trust  where  we  do  not  love,  we  can  never  wholly 
love  where  we  do  not  trust.  Basil,  then,  did  not  love 
her;  not  as  she  understood  love,  not  as  a  man  should 
love  the  woman  he  is  going  to  marry.  And  if  he  did 
not  love  her,  should  she  keep  him  to  his  engagement? 
Could  she  let  him  sacrifice  himself  to  her  from  a  sense 
of  honor,  of  pity,  of  gratitude? 

Schenk  was  right  :  Basil  had  never  loved  her, 

Narka  intei'laced  her  fingers,  and  straightened  up  her 
arms  above  her  head  in  a  gesture  of  intolerable  anguish. 
"I  will  give  him  up! — I  will  give  him  up!"  she  cried 
aloud,  almost  in  a  shout,  and  then  she  flung  herself  upon 
the  sofa,  and  sobbed  till  it  shook  under  her.  When 
the  paroxysm  had  subsided  she  stood  up,  and  began  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  room.  "If  he  were  to  confess 
the  truth  to  me  even  now,  I  would  believe  him,"  she 
said,  again  speaking  aloud  to  herself,  and  like  a  drown- 
ing man  catching  at  a  straw  in  her  despair ;  "  if  he  were 
to  come  to  me  now  and  say:  '  I  loved  Marguerite  in  the 
old  days  before  I  learned  to  love  you,'  I  could  believe — " 
But  she  suddenly  checked  herself.  Had  he  not  told 
Marguerite  that  his  love  for  her  was  a  unique  thing  in 
his  life  ?  And  then  he  had  said  that  Narka  should  miss 
nothing,  that  he  would  be  a  loyal  and  loving  husband 
to  her,  that  he  would  pay  back  his  debt  as  a  man  of 
honor.  Oh  God !  was  this  the  i*eturn  she  was  to  get  for 
her  passionate  love !     Could  she  take  such  pitiful  pay- 


NarJca.  34V 

ment  of  cold  gratitude  and  duty  in  exchange  for  the 
love  that  had  been  burning  like  a  fire  in  her  heart  all 
these  years  ?  No ;  it  was  intolerable.  "  I  will  give  him 
up !"  she  repeated,  already  with  a  stern  quietness  that  be- 
spoke a  firmer  will  than  her  first  violent  outburst. 

She  sat  down  and  tried  to  face  the  reality.  She  would 
give  him  up;  this  much  was  certain;  she  was  resolved 
to  give  him  up.  And  having  made  this  tremendous  de- 
cision, it  seemed  as  if  the  necessity  for  it  grew  suddenly 
clearer.  She  saw  distinctly,  like  something  new  that 
she  had  never  even  glanced  at  before,  what  the  conse- 
quences would  be  to  Basil  and  to  herself  if  he  married 
her:  he  was  going  to  make  as  complete  a  sacrifice  as 
a  man  could  make  for  a  woman ;  he  was  going  to  quarrel 
with  his  father ;  to  give  him  up ;  to  give  up  his  whole 
fortune  and  position;  to  give  up  Sibyl  too,  for  though 
she  might  feign  to  forgive  the  marriage,  in  her  heart 
she  would  never  really  forgive  it;  she  would  hate  the 
woman  who  had  come  between  her  and  the  brother  of 
whom  she  was  so  proud.  And  what  had  Narka  to  give 
him  in  return  for  all  this  ?  If  he  had  loved  her — ah,  if 
he  had  loved  her!  Narka  knew  with  what  supreme 
abundance  love  can  satisfy  the  lover,  and  make  all  sac- 
rifices as  nothing  compared  to  the  plenary  bliss  it  can 
bestow.     But  he  did  not  love  her. 

"I  will  not  marry  him;  I  will  not  see  him  again," 
she  said;  and  her  will  took  firmer  hold  of  this  deter- 
mination, and  it  seemed  to  hai'den  her  heart  and  brace 
it  for  the  sacrifice.  Then,  instinctively,  her  thoughts 
flew  to  Marguerite.  There  would  be  sympathy  there 
and  understanding.  "I  will  tell  her  the  truth;  I  will 
tell  her  everything,"  was  Nai'ka's  reflection.  But  when 
she  had  told  Marguerite,  what  was  she  to  do  ?  Where 
was  she  to  go  ?     She  must  take  up  life  again  with  its  dif- 


348  NarJca. 

faculties  and  its  inexorable  necessities;  slie  must  go  back 
to  loneliness,  without  any  sustaining  hope  to  make  it  en- 
durable. Suddenly  she  remembered  Zampa,  and  the 
thought  was  like  a  flash  of  lightning  showing  her  a  way 
out  of  the  darkness.  She  would  go  to  Zampa;  she 
would  throw  herself  into  the  art  she  loved,  and  enter  at 
once  on  her  career  as  a  singer,  and  study  with  all  her 
might,  and  become  a  great  artist.  A  thrill  of  relief, 
almost  of  exultation,  came  with  this  resolution,  and  with 
the  consciousness  that  she  had  within  her  the  power  to 
fashion  her  own  destiny  and  conquer  independence. 
She  need  not  be  an  object  of  pity  to  any  one ;  there  was 
something  in  this.  Narka  stood  up  again,  and  as  she 
did  so  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  One  of  the  maids, 
of  course.  She  said,  "  Come  in."  The  door  opened,  and 
it  was  Basil  who  entered. 

He  went  quickly  up  to  her  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  My  Narka !"  he  cried,  straining  her  to  him. 

She  sufi'ered  his  embrace  without  responding  to  it; 
but  Basil  was  too  excited  to  notice  this,  and  he  felt  that 
she  was  trembling. 

"  I  was  here  before,"  he  said,  "but  you  were  I'esting. 
How  are  you,  dearest  ?  Let  me  look  at  you  ?  You  are 
tired  and  pale.  No  wonder."  He  kissed  her  forehead. 
"Sit  down  beside  me;"  and  he  would  have  drawn  her 
to  the  couch,  but  Narka  did  not  move. 

"Tell  me  about  Ivan,"  she  said.  "Have  you  seen 
him  ?     Is  he  dead  ?" 

"No;  he  is  still  alive;  but  they  don't  think  he  will 
pass  the  day." 

Basil  now  became  conscious  of  something  strange 
about  her.  It  was  natural  that  the  horror  of  this 
tragedy  should  have  solemnized  all  things  to  them  both, 
that  it  should  be  uppermost  in  her  thoughts,  and  have 


Narlca.  349 

checked  the  overflow  of  her  joy  a  little ;  but  there  was 
something  beyond  this  in  her  manner.  He  tried  again 
to  draw  her  to  the  couch,  but  her  figure  stiffened  itself 
against  his  arm,  and  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der, as  if  gently  putting  him  from  her. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Narka  ?  Are  you  not  glad  to 
see  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  she  said,  and  her 
great  eyes  looked  steadily  into  his,  and  her  voice  did 
not  falter,  "  There  is  an  end  of  our  engagement.  You 
must  leave  me,  and  forget  that  you  ever  thought  of  mar- 
rying me." 

Basil  drew  away  his  arm,  and  looked  at  her  in  amaze. 
"  You  are  gone  mad,"  he  said.  Then,  in  a  softer  tone: 
"No  wonder  if  you  did,  after  all  you  have  been  going 
through,  my  poor  Narka.  But  what  has  put  this  folly 
into  your  head?" 

"It  is  no  folly.  The  folly  was  when  we  thought 
that  our  marriage  could  bring  either  of  us  anything  but 
suffering  and  regret.  Yes.  Let  me  speak  out,  Basil. 
Listen  to  me.  If  you  married  me,  you  would  lose  every- 
thing; you  would  be  an  exile  all  your  life;  your  father 
would  never  forgive  you,  nor  Sibyl ;  and  Sibyl  would 
hate  me ;  and  I  could  not  live  under  that ;  it  would  kill 
me.  I  see  it  all  now.  We  must  part.  You  will  marry 
some  one  who  will  suit  you  and  make  you  happy ;  some 
one  in  your  own  rank.  Marie  Krinsky  loves  you; 
marry  her,  and  give  up  playing  at  patriotism ;  you  are 
not  made  for  it.  No,  dear  Basil,  you  are  made  to  be 
what  you  are,  and  nothing  else.  If  you  broke  with  your 
kindred  and  your  caste  and  married  me,  we  should  both 
regret  it.  You  would  try  to  hide  it  from  me,  but  I 
should  see  it,  and  it  would  make  me  a  miserable  wo- 
man." 


350  Narka. 

She  said  all  this  rapidly,  as  if  she  were  in  a  hurry  to 
get  it  all  out  before  breaking  down;  but  her  voice  did 
not  break,  although  it  was  nervous  and  vibrating,  and 
she  was  so  white  that  Basil  feared  she  was.  going  to 
faint;  but  her  eyes  still  met  his  without  quailing.  What 
did  it  all  mean  ?  What  had  she  heard  to  drive  her  to 
this  extraoi'dinary  resolution?  His  conscience  smote 
him;  he  remembered  his  words  to  Marguei'ite  in  the 
boudoir;  but  they  could  not  have  come  back  to  Narka. 

"Sibyl  has  been  talking  to  you,"  he  said;  "she  has 
persuaded  you  to  this." 

"No,  she  has  not;  I  have  not  had  a  moment's  conver- 
sation with  Sibyl  since  I  have  been  in  the  house.  She 
has  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  my  determination." 

"Then  what  in  Heaven's  name  has  come  to  you,  Nar- 
ka? Have  you  ceased  to  care  for  me?  It  was  only 
yesterday  you  swore  to  me  you  loved  me  as  your  life, 
and  now  you  coolly  turn  me  away,  and  throw  me  off 
without  a  word  of  explanation.  I  insist  upon  knowing 
what  it  means." 

"I  have  told  you,"  she  replied.  "We  have  been 
living  in  a  fools'  paradise.  I  was  blind,  and  you  were 
mad.  But  there  is  an  end  of  it.  We  must  separate. 
Don't  be  sorry  for  me,  or  afraid.  I  have  courage ;  I  will 
go  my  way  safely." 

"Good  God!  what  are  you  talking  about?  What 
way  will  you  go  if  you  do  not  come  with  me  ?" 

"I  will  go  to  Florence,  and  become  a  singer.  My 
voice  is  better  than  ever  it  was.  I  am  able  to  face 
the  future  without  any  fear." 

She  was  still  as  white  as  marble.  There  was  some- 
thing marble-like  about  her  altogether  in  the  calm  stone 
coldness  of  her  manner  to  him.  It  was  unnatural, 
incomprehensible,  in  so  passionate  a  creature  as  Narka. 


Narka.  351 

"You  are  talking  mere  nonsense,  child,"  said  Basil; 
' '  and  besides,  you  forget  that  I  have  a  claim  on  you  that 
is  not  to  be  set  aside  by  any  fanciful  arguments  or  ca- 
price of  feeling:  I  am  your  debtor  for  fifty  thousand 
roubles." 

' '  Not  quite.  You  sent  me  some  of  it  by  poor  Ivan  ; 
but  Sibyl  has  paid  me  the  whole  amount.  It  is  there," 
said  Narka,  pointing  to  the  drawer  of  the  writing-table. 
"I  found  it  when  I  came  here  from  the  court  yester- 
day." 

"Sibyl  had  no  right  to  meddle  in  it,"  he  said,  red- 
dening with  anger.  He  would  rather  have  remained 
Narka's  debtor  than  become  Sibyl's,  and  it  seemed  to 
weaken  his  hold  on  Narka  now  that  the  debt  should 
have  been  paid;  though,  if  she  persisted  in  breaking 
their  engagement,  it  was  better  he  should  be  free. 
Would  she  pei'sist  ?  Basil  said  to  himself  that  she  would 
not ;  but  there  was  something  about  Narka  that  said  to 
him,  "She  will."  If  anything  had  happened  a  month 
ago  to  break  ofiP  his  engagement  honorably  to  himself,  it 
is  doubtful  whether  he  would  have  felt  the  blow  a  very 
severe  one;  but  coming  from  Nai'ka's  hand,  and  dealt 
at  him  in  this  cool,  sudden  way,  it  wounded  him  to  the 
quick,  and  fired  his  feeling  toward  her  to  a  flame  of  pas- 
sion. He  Avould  not  give  her  up!  He  knew  how  she 
loved  him,  and  how  she  had  suffered  for  him.  This 
act  of  hers  was  the  result  of  some  heroic  fancy,  or  else 
she  had  been  stung  to  it  by  wounded  pride.  In  spite 
of  her  denial,  he  suspected  Sibyl  was  at  the  bottom  of  it ; 
but  he  would  conquer  her  in  spite  of  her  own  stubborn 
pride, and  Sibyl,  and  the  whole  world;  but  there  was  no 
use  in  struggling  any  more  with  Narka  now:  opposition 
would  only  nerve  her  to  more  determined  resistance. 

"Narka,  you  are  very  cruel  to  play  with  me  in  this 


352  Narha. 

way,"  he  said,  "and  I  shall  punish  you  for  it  some  day. 
But  you  are  tired  and  nervous,  and  you  want  rest  after 
all  this  terrible  strain  on  you.  I  wish  you  could  go  to 
the  country  for  a  week.  Perhaps  if  you  went  down 
to  Beaucrillon  for  a  few  days,  it  would  do  you  good 
and  bring  you  to  your  right  mind." 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  a  smile  that 
went  to  his  heart's  core :  there  was  an  expression  in  her 
eyes  that  was  indefinable. 

Basil  drew  her  to  him,  and  held  her  to  his  breast, 
kissing  her  with  a  passionate,  hungry  tenderness.  "You 
sha'n't  fly  from  me,"  he  murmured  between  the  kisses; 
"I  would  follow  you  to  the  end  of  the  world  if  you 
did.     My  love!  my  wife!  my  beautiful  one!" 

Narka  let  herself  sink  into  the  loved  embrace.  Now 
for  the  first  time  she  was  tasting  the  caresses  of  a  true 
lover.  Basil  felt  her  clinging  to  him,  and  triumphed 
in  his  power  over  her,  and  silently  rejoiced. 

A  knock  at  the  door  made  him  start  and  release  her. 

"Monsieur  de  Beaucrillon  desires  to  kiiow  if  made- 
moiselle will  come  down-stairs  or  receive  him  here?" 
said  the  servant. 

"I  will  come  down  presently,"  Narka  replied.  But 
when  the  man  was  gone,  she  said  to  Basil :  "I  must  be 
alone  for  a  while.  I  cannot  see  any  one.  Don't  let 
him  come  up." 

"I  will  protect  you,"  Basil  said;  and  he  kissed  her 
again,  and  went  away. 

Narka  waited  till  the  sound  of  his  footfalls  on  the 
stairs  had  quite  ceased,  and  then  she  flung  herself  on 
her  knees,  and  her  tortured  heart  found  relief  in  a  flood 
of  passionate  tears,  while  her  soul  went  up  in  a  pier- 
cing prayer  for  pity  and  help.  But  it  was  not  in  her 
nature  to  indulge  long  in  the  luxury  of  grief,  and   to 


Narka.  353 

keep  action  waiting  on  emotion.  She  rose  and  dried 
her  eyes,  and  considered  what  she  had  to  do.  The  vital 
crisis  had  come  and  gone.  She  was  glad  to  have  seen 
Basil.  That  last  caress  had  satisfied  an  intolerable 
craving  of  her  heart,  and  given  her  courage  for  what 
remained  to  be  done.  Her  last  fears  were  now  cast  out; 
she  felt  armed  against  every  attack  from  within  and 
from  without.  She  would  have  risen  and  gone  away 
that  moment,  but  for  the  fear  of  meeting  Basil  or  M.  de 
Beaucrillon.  Besides,  she  must  write  a  farewell  note  to 
Sibyl,  explaining  her  flight.  This  done,  she  put  on  her 
cloak  and  bonnet,  and  waited.  After  a  while  the  bell 
clanged,  the  gates  were  opened,  and  Sibyl's  open  car- 
riage came  wheeling  into  the  court.  Soon  Narka  heard 
a  light  step  on  the  stairs,  and  there  was  a  knock  at 
the  door,  then  a  pause,  and  she  heard  the  step  descend- 
ing. At  the  end  of  about  half  an  hour  there  was  a 
sound  of  wheels  moving  away.  Narka,  fi'om  a  safe 
distance,  looked  through  the  lace  curtains,  and  saw 
Sibyl  and  M.  de  Beaucrillon  and  Basil  all  driving  off'  to- 
gether. Basil  had  kept  his  promise  of  protecting  her. 
She  was  free  now  to  go.  But  instead  of  hurrying  away, 
she  sat  down.  It  was  not  that  her  purpose  faltered ;  she 
felt  very  sti'ong  and  resolute,  but  extraordinarily  exaltee. 
A  strange  sensation  came  over  her,  something  like  what 
she  had  experienced  in  the  prison;  it  was  as  if  she  had 
been  lifted  out  of  the  world,  bej^ond  time,  and  was  look- 
iing  back  on  all  she  had  left  behind,  on  the  broken  des- 
tiny she  was  running  away  from,  as  one  looks  back  from 
a  turn  in  the  road  at  the  house  one  has  just  left;  but  the 
mystery  of  life  seemed  suddenly  illuminated  with  an 
altogether  different  meaning  and  purpose  from  what  she 
had  seen,  or  fancied,  in  that  other  vision;  the  dark  and 
cruel  things  were  now  bright  with  hidden  possibilities 
2<i 


354  Narka. 

of  blessing  and  redemption ;  she  saw  Marguerite's  ideal 
emerge  iu  all  its  beauty  amidst  the  storm  and  confusiorx 
of  the  world  around  it;  and  side  by  side  with  this  she 
saw  her  own  ideal  ovex'turned  and  dishonored;  the 
things  that  she  had  worshipped  had  betrayed  her;  the 
love  whose  incantation  had  transfigured  her  whole  life 
had  melted  away  like  a  shadow,  and  with  it  all  her  illu- 
sions had  vanished;  the  insane  theories,  the  wild  en- 
thusiasms, which  had  inspired  and  misled  her,  had  sud- 
denly evaporated  with  the  great  passion  that  had  fed  her 
belief  in  them.  Only  a  little  while  ago  the  defeat  of 
those  hopes  and  dreams  would  have  seemed  the  bitterest 
of  life's  revenges;  but  now  she  was  content  to  let  them 
go.  And  was  everything  gone?  Was  thei'e  nothing 
saved  from  the  wreck  ?  Yes ;  there  was  God  and  her 
fellow-creatures;  there  was  all  humanity  to  care  for. 
She  would  open  her  heart  to  this  larger  love,  and  put 
her  hand  to  whatsoever  service  of  help  came  to  it.  In 
this  supreme  moment  of  her  sacrifice  Nai'ka  was  be- 
ginning to  taste  something  of  the  inebriation  that  comes 
to  those  who  drink  of  the  bitter  cup  with  courage. 

But  it  was  time  to  be  going.  She  rose  quickly,  and 
went  down-stairs.  It  seemed  only  yesterday  that  she 
had  walked  up  those  crimson  steps  to  be  greeted  by  Sibyl 
in  the  boudoir  where  a  few  hours  ago  she  had  heard  the 
sentence  that  banished  her.  There  was  a  servant  in  the 
hall ;  she  passed  him  by,  and  went  out  into  the  garden 
to  a  gate  that  opened  into  the  street.  Narka  knew  the 
trick  of  the  latch ;  she  lifted  it,  let  herself  out,  and  then 
drew  the  gate  that  locked  itself  behind  her. 


NarJca.  356 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

It  is  now  winter  again  at  Yrakow.  Sibyl  and  her 
husband  and  Basil  are  once  more  assembled  in  that 
tapestried  room  where  we  first  saw  them.  Father  Chris- 
topher is  there  too,  aged  and  broken,  his  figure,  former- 
ly so  erect,  is  now  bent,  and  he  walks  like  a  man  who  is 
still  carrying  a  load  on  his  shoulders  and  dragging  a 
chain ;  but  this  he  declares  is  only  a  bad  habit  that  his 
old  limbs  cannot  get  rid  of ;  he  says  he  is  the  happiest  of 
men;  and  indeed  the  sei'enity  of  his  countenance  and 
his  cheerful  flow  of  spirits  confirm  this  assertion. 

Basil  was  engaged  to  Marie  Krinsky,  and  the  marriage 
was  soon  to  be  celebrated  at  the  Winter  Palace  with  all 
pomp  becoming  the  presence  of  royalty  and  the  rank 
of  the  bride  and  bridegroom. 

Sibyl  ought  to  have  been  satisfied.  And  yet  the  old 
castle  was  empty  of  something  that  she  missed  at  every 
turn.  She  was  grateful  to  Nai'ka  for  having  gone  of  her 
own  free-will  and  set  Basil  free;  but  her  absence  made 
a  void  that  nothing  could  fill.  By  tacit  consent,  the 
brother  and  sister  never  spoke  of  Narka ;  but  each  knew 
that  she  was  dearer  than  ever  to  the  other  since  they  had 
lost  her. 

This  evening  M.  de  Beaucrillon  was  reading  aloud 
the  newspaper,  when  he  came  to  a  pai'agraph  headed, 
^^ Milan. — Extraordinary  Scene  at  La  Scala,''^  and 
having  read  so  far,  stopped  suddenly. 

Sibyl  looked  up  from  her  embroidery  frame.  "What 
is  it  ?"  she  said. 


356  Narka. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a  movement 
that  seemed  to  say,  "Why  not?"  read  on:  "'Last  night 
Mademoiselle  Narka  Larik  made  her  debut  in  Norma, 
and  no  one  who  witnessed  the  performance  will  ever 
forget  the  scene.  Her  extraordinary  beauty  would  alone 
have  insured  her  a  success,  but  this,  joined  to  her  in- 
comparable voice  and  transcendent  talent,  won  for  her 
such  a  triumph  as  no  one  present  ever  saw  on  any  stage. 
The  audience  simply  went  mad  with  entliusiasm.     The 

King  of  X ,  who  was  present  with  tlie  Queen,  rushed 

on  the  stage  and  conducted  the  beautiful  artist,  who 
was  almost  overcome  with  emotion,  to  the  royal  box, 
where  the  Queen  embraced  her,  and  drawing  a  costly 
diamond  ring  from  her  own  finger,  placed  it  on  Made- 
moiselle Narka's.  Cries  of  ^^Evviva  la  Regina .'"  ^^Ev- 
viva  la  Narka .'"  showed  how  the  spectators  rejoiced  in 
this  meeting  of  the  two  royalties  of  genius  and  rank. 
The  prima  donna  is  invited  to  a  dinner  given  in  her 
honor  by  their  Majesties  on  the  20th  instant.'  " 

A  moment  of  intense  silence  followed  the  reading  of 
this  passage.  Then  M.  de  Beaucrillon  laid  down  the 
newspaper  and  said:  "She  is  a  noble  woman.  I  hope 
some  Crown  Prince  will  fall  in  love  with  her  and  marry 
her!" 


THE  END. 


BEN-HUR:  A  TALE  OF  THE  CHRIST. 


By  Lew.  Wallace.     Kew  Edition,     pp.  552.     16mo, 

Cloth,  $1  50. 

Anything  so  startling,  new,  and  distinctive  as  the  leading  feature  of  this 
romance  does  not  often  appear  in  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Some  of  Mr.  Wal- 
lace's writing  is  remarliable  for  its  pathetic  eloquence.  The  scenes  de- 
scribed in  the  New  Testament  are  rewritten  with  the  power  and  sliill  of 
an  accomplished  master  of  style. — N.  Y.  Times. 

Its  real  basis  is  a  description  of  the  life  of  the  Jews  and  Romans  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  and  this  is  both  forcible  and  brilliant.  .  .  . 
We  are  carried  through  a  surprising  variety  of  scenes ;  we  witness  a  sea- 
fight,  a  chariot-race,  the  internal  economy  of  a  Roman  galley,  domestic  in- 
teriors at  Antioch,  at  Jerusalem,  and  among  the  tribes  of  the  desert ;  pal- 
aces, prisons,  the  haunts  of  dissipated  Roman  youth,  the  houses  of  pious 
families  of  Israel.  There  is  plenty  of  exciting  incident;  everything  is 
animated,  vivid,  and  glowing. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

From  the  opening  of  the  volume  to  the  very  close  the  reader's  interest 
will  be  kept  at  the  highest  pitch,  and  the  novel  will  be  pronounced  by  all 
one  of  the  greatest  novels  of  the  day. — Boston  Post. 

It  is  full  of  poetic  beauty,  as  though  born  of  an  Eastern  sage,  and  there 
is  sufficient  of  Oriental  customs,  geography,  nomenclature,  etc.,  to  greatly 
strengthen  the  semblance. — Boston  Commonwealth. 

"  Ben-Hnr "  is  interesting,  and  its  characterization  is  fine  and  strong. 
Meanwhile  .t  evmces  careful  study  of  the  period  in  which  the  scene  is  laid, 
and  will  help  those  who  read  it  with  reasonable  attention  to  realize  the 
nature  and  conditions  of  Hebrew  life  in  Jerusalem  and  Roman  life  at 
Antioch  at  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  advent. — Examiner,  N.  Y. 

It  is  really  Scripture  history  of  Christ's  time  clothed  gracefully  and 
delicately  in  the  flowing  and  loose  drapery  of  modern  fiction.  .  .  .  Few  late 
works  of  fiction  excel  it  in  genuine  ability  and  interest. — N.  Y.  Graphic. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  delightful  books.  It  is  as  real  and 
warm  as  life  iteelf,  and  as  attractive  as  the  grandest  and  most  heroic 
chapters  of  history. — Indianapolis  Journal. 

The  book  is  one  of  unquestionable  power,  and  will  be  read  with  un- 
wonted interest  by  many  readers  who  are  weary  of  the  conventional  novel 
and  romance. — Boston  Journal. 


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There  is  a  certain  bright  cheerfulness  in  Miss  Woolson's  writing  which 
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Miss  Woolson  is  among  our  few  successful  writers  of  interesting  mag- 
azine stories,  and  her  skill  and  power  are  perceptible  in  the  delineation  of 
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Constance  Fenimore  Woolson  may  easily  become  the  novelist  laureate. 
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Miss  Woolson  has  a  graceful  fancy,  a  ready  wit,  a  polished  style,  and 
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own ;  and  thus  we  feel,  on  reading  one  of  her  works,  a  fresh  sensatit*, 
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ing it  is  finished.  The  author's  lines  must  have  fallen  to  her  in  very 
pleasant  places ;  or  she  has,  perhaps,  within  herself  the  wealth  of  woman- 
ly love  and  tenderness  she  pours  so  freely  into  all  she  writes.  Such  books 
as  hers  do  much  to  elevate  the  moral  tone  of  the  day — a  quality  sadlj 
wanting  in  novels  of  the  time. —  Whitehall  Review,  London. 


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R.  D.  BLACKMORE'S  NOVELS. 


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His  descriptions  are  wonderfully  vivid  and  natural.  His  pages  are  bright- 
ened everywhere  with  great  humor;  the  quaint,  dry  turns  of  thought  remind 
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His  tales,  all  of  them,  are  pre-eminently  meritorious.  They  are  remark- 
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esque description,  and  their  quiet  and  sustained  humor.  Besides,  they  are 
pervaded  by  a  bright  aud  elastic  atmosphere  which  diffuses  a  cheery  feeling 
of  healthful  and  robust  vigor.  While  they  charm  us  by  iheir  sprightly  vivac- 
ity and  their  naturalness,  they  never  in  the  slightest  degree  transcend  the 
limits  of  delicacy  or  good  taste.  While  radiating  warmth  and  brightness,  they 
are  as  pure  as  the  new-fallen  snow.  .  .  .  Their  literary  execution  is  admirable, 
and  their  dramatic  power  is  as  exceptional  as  their  moral  \nmty.— Christian 
Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 

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BAR   HARBOR   DAYS.     A  Tale  of  Mount  Desert.     Illus- 
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A  bright  story  of  life  at  Mount  Desert.  ...  Is  is  exceedingly  well  done, 
and  the  scenery,  the  ways  of  the  people,  and  the  social  methods  of  the 
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It  is  all  appropriate,  and  graceful,  and  sunny-hearted,  and  sweet-natured, 
and  true  to  life.  Yes,  the  optimists  are  truer  to  life  than  the  pessimists; 
and  this  dainty  chronicle  of  summer  wanderings  where  the  fun  is  not  all 
selfish  pleasure,  but  tuned  to  sympathy  with  those  less  fortunate,  is  a 
blessing  not  in  disguise. — Critic,  X.  Y. 

A  breezy  book,  full  of  happy  hits  and  Bar  Harbor  groups. ...  A  bright, 
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HELEN  TROY.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

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and  has  an  element  of  naturalness  that  is  particularly  pleasing.  The  de- 
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The  book  is  written  with  exceeding  cleverness,  and  abounds  in  delight- 
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Mrs.  Harrison's  style  is  crisp,  epigrammatic,  piquant ;  she  shades  her 
characters  artistically,  paints  from  real  Ufe,  and,  without  hurrying  the 
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GOLDEN  ROD:  AN  IDYL  OF  MOUNT  DESERT.     32rao, 
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the  mere  reading  of  which  makes  you  long  to  be  there,  and  to  feel  sure 
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H.  RIDER  HAGGARD'S   NOVELS. 


SHE :   A  HISTORY  OF  ADVENTURE.     Profusely  Illustrated. 
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niggardliness;  he  is  only  too  affluent  in  description  and  ornament,  .  .  .  There  is 
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This  bare  sketch  of  the  story  gives  no  conception  of  tlie  beauty  of  the  love-pas- 
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Mr.  Haggard  is  remarkable  for  his  fertility  of  invention.  .  .  .  The  story,  like  the 
rest  of  his  stories,  is  full  of  romance,  movement,  action,  color,  passion.  "Jess" 
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THEIR  PILGRIMAGE. 

By  Charles  Dudley  Warner.     Richly  Illustrated  by  C.  S. 
Reinhart.     pp.  viii.,  364.     8vo,  Half  Leather,  $2  00. 


Aside  from  the  delicious  story — its  wonderful  portraitures  of  character 
and  its  dramatic  development — the  book  is  precious  to  all  who  know  any- 
thing about  the  great  American  watering-places,  for  it  contains  incompar- 
able descriptions  of  those  famous  resorts  and  their  frequenters.  Even 
without  the  aid  of  Mr.  Reinhart's  brilliant  drawings,  Mr.  Warner  conjures 
up  word-pictures  of  Cape  May,  Newport,  Saratoga,  Lake  George,  Richfield 
Springs,  Niagara,  the  Wliite  Mountains,  and  all  the  rest,  which  strike  the 
eye  like  photographs,  so  clear  is  every  outline.  But  Mr.  Reinhart's  de- 
signs fit  into  the  text  so  closely  that  we  could  not  bear  to  part  with  a 
single  one  of  them.  "  Their  Pilgrimage  "  is  destined,  for  an  indefinite 
succession  of  summers,  to  be  a  ruling  favorite  with  all  visitors  of  the 
mountains,  the  beaches,  and  the  spas  which  are  so  marvellously  reflected 
in  its  pages. — N.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce. 

The  author  touches  the  canvas  here  and  there  with  lines  of  color  that 
fix  and  identify  American  character.  Herein  is  the  real  charm  for  those 
who  like  it  best,  and  for  this  one  may  anticipate  that  it  will  be  one  of  the 
prominent  books  of  the  time.  Of  the  fancy  and  humor  of  Mr.  Warner, 
which  in  witchery  of  their  play  and  power  are  quite  independent  of  this 
or  that  subject,  there  is  nothing  to  add.  But  acknowledgment  is  due  Mr. 
Reinhart  for  nearly  eighty  finely  conceived  drawings,  and  to  the  publishers 
for  the  substantial  and  rich  letter-press  and  covers. — Boston  Globe. 

No  more  entertaining  travelling  companions  for  a  tour  of  pleasure  re- 
sorts could  be  wished  for  than  those  who  in  Mr.  Warner's  pages  chat  and 
laugh,  and  skim  the  cream  of  all  the  enjoyment  to  be  found  from  Mount 
Washington  to  the  Sulphur  Springs.  .  .  .  His  pen-pictures  of  the  charac- 
ters typical  of  each  resort,  of  the  manner  of  life  followed  at  each,  of  the 
humor  and  absurdities  peculiar  to  Saratoga,  or  Newport,  or  Bar  Harbor, 
as  the  case  may  be,  are  as  good-natured  as  they  are  clever.  The  satire, 
when  there  is  any,  is  of  the  mildest,  and  the  general  tone  is  that  of  one 
glad  to  look  on  the  brightest  side  of  the  cheerful,  pleasure-seeking  world 
with  which  he  mingles.  ...  In  Mr.  Reinhart  the  author  has  an  assistant 
who  has  done  with  his  pencil  almost  exactly  what  Mr.  Warner  has  accom- 
plished with  his  pen.  His  drawings  are  spirited,  catch  with  wonderful 
success  the  tone  and  costume  of  each  place  visited,  and  abound  in  good- 
natured  fun. —  Christian  Union,  N.  Y. 

Mr.  Reinhart's  spirited  and  realistic  illustrations  are  very  attractive,  and 
contribute  to  make  an  unusually  handsome  book.  We  have  already  com- 
mented upon  the  earlier  chapters  of  the  test;  and  the  happy  blending  of 
travel  and  fiction  which  we  looked  forward  to  with  confidence  did,  in  fact, 
distinguish  this  story  among  the  serials  of  the  year. — N,  Y.  Bvening  Post. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

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